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^  OVERS 


CHAS.  FELTON  PIDGIN 


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THE  CORSICAN 
LOVERS 

A  STORY  OF  THE  VENDETTA 

BY 

CHARLES  FELTON  PIDGIN 

Author  of  "QUINCY   ADAMS   SAWYER,"    "BLEN- 
NERHASSETT,"  ETC. 


^ 


New  York 
GROSSET    &     DUNLAP 

Publishers 


Copyright,  1906 

By 

B.  W.  DODGE  &  COMPANY 

New  York 


CONTENTS. 


VBAPTim 

I.  Brotherly  Love 

11.  "  A  Man  Must  Have  a  Wife 

III.  "  Pyladks  and  Orestes" 

IV.  "Bdckholmk"    . 
V.  The  Earl  of  Noxton 

VI.  Dual  Lives        ... 

VII.  Bertha's  Escape 

VIII.  A   SORUOW   AND  A    SOLACE 

IX.  News  of  the  Fugitives  . 

X.  "La  Grande  Passion"    . 

XI.  A  CoRsicAN  Chant  . 

XII.  Cromillian,  the  Moral  Bandit 

XIII.  "  To  See  is  to  Love  !  " 

XIV.  A  Flower  with  Blood-stained  Petals 
XV.  A  Duel  in  the  Dark 

XVI.  Ancestral  Pride 

XVII.  A  Life  for  a  Life  . 

XVIII.  A  Message  from  the  Dead 

XIX.  The  Avenger  of  Blood 

XX.  '*  Who  is  Master  Here  ?  " 

XXI.  A  Birthday  Party  . 

XXII.  Treachery 

XXIII.  "He  is  the  Man  I"  . 

XXIV.  The  Hall  of  Mirrors 
XXV.  The  Dungeon  Chamber 

XXVI.  At  Salvanetra 

ill 


VAsa 

1 

8 

20 

28 

42 

67 

66 

77 

83 

91 

104 

116 

124 

141 

149 

168 

173 

200 

205 

216 

281 

242 

251 

261 

278 

281 


22290SS 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


CBAPTZB  TJLQM 

XXVII.    To  THB  Rescue  ! 285 

XXVIII.  "  We  Will  Die  ToGETHKBl"       .        .        .        .293 

XXIX.    A  Double  Vekdetta 806 

XXX.    The  Qaeden  of  Edbw 811 

XXXI.    Fathkb  and  Son 822 

XXXri.     "MebrieEnqlaito" 328 


THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

CHAPTER  I. 

BEOTHEELY  LOVE. 

"You  have  no  right,  Pascal,  to  command  me  to 
many  a  man  whom  I  do  not  love." 

The  speaker  was  a  young  girl  not  more  than  eighteen 
years  of  age.  As  she  spoke,  the  flashing  of  her  eyes  and 
her  clenched  hands  betokened  the  intensity  of  her  feel- 
ings. 

The  person  to  whom  the  words  were  addressed  was  a 
man  of  about  forty.  He  was  smooth-shaven,  and  the 
black,  shaggy  eyebrows  which  met  above  the  bridge  of 
his  nose,  gave  to  his  face  a  stern  and  almost  forbidding 
expression.  He  did  not  reply  to  his  sister's  impassioned 
words  for  some  time,  but  sat,  apparently  unconcerned, 
tapping  lightly  on  the  library  table  with  the  fingers  of 
his  right  hand. 

At  last  he  spoke :  "  I  do  not  command  you, 
Vivienne ;  all  I  ask  is  that  you  will  comply  with  your 
father's  dying  wish." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  it  was  his  dying  wish  ?  He 
was  dead  when  found,  stabbed  to  the  heart,  as  you  told 
me,  by  Manuel  Delia  Coscia — that  brave  Corsican  who 
ran  away  to  escape  the  vengeance  he  so  well  deserved." 

The  man  looked  up  approvingly.  "  My  sister,  that 
was  spoken  like  a  true  Batistelli.  If  you  loved  your 
father,  as  your  words  seem  to  indicate,  I  do  not  see  how 
you  can  disobey  his  slightest  wish." 


2  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

The  girl  turned  upon  him,  that  bright  flash  again  in 
her  eyes.  "  Why  are  you  so  anxious  that  I  should 
marry  ?     Why  is  it  that  you  yourself  do  not  marry  ?  " 

The  man's  answer  came  quickly :  "  I  have  sworn, 
and  so  has  your  brother  Julien,  that  we  will  not  marry 
until  our  father's  death  has  been  avenged." 

The  girl  placed  both  her  hands  on  the  edge  of  the 
table,  leaned  forward,  and  looked  into  her  brother's 
face,  as  she  said :  "  And  neither  will  I." 

She  spoke  with  suppressed  intensity. 

"  You  knew  our  father,"  she  continued ;  "  you  loved 
him  when  he  was  alive  and  you  can  love  him  now.  You 
have  something  tangible  to  remember ;  I  can  only  love 
his  memory.  I  was  but  a  child  a  few  days  old  when  he 
fell  beneath  the  knife  of  the  assassin.  I  do  love  his 
memory,  and  I  know  if  he  were  living  he  woidd  not  con- 
demn me  to  a  loveless  marriage." 

Again  that  inscrutable  look  came  upon  the  man's  face. 
He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  the  dark  line  of  eye- 
brows lifted  perceptibly. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  he  would  do ;  I  only  know  what 
he  did." 

"  And  what  did  he  do  ?  "  broke  in  Vivienne. 

The  man  started.  The  question  was  asked  with  such 
vehemence  that  for  an  instant  his  marked  self-posses- 
sion was  overcome. 

"  What  did  he  do  ?  "  he  repeated,  thus  gaining  time, 
for  he  wished  to  think  of  the  most  forcible  way  in  which 
to  present  the  matter  to  his  sister.  "  I  will  tell  you.  I 
know  that  he  talked  the  matter  over  with  old  Count 
Mont  d'Oro.  The  Count  is  dead,  or  there  would  be  a 
living  witness  to  the  compact  But  a  few  days  before 
our  father's  death,  in  fact  the  very  day  you  were  bom, 
even  while  you  were  in  your  nurse's  arms,  he  said  to 
me,  '  I  am  glad  that  it  is  a  daughter.  She  shall  be 
called  Vivienne,  and  when  she  grows  to  womanhood  she 
shall  be  a  countess,  for  I  have  talked  the  matter  over 


BROTHERLY  LOVE.  3 

with  Count  Mont  d'Oro,  and  we  have  both  agreed  that 
the  little  Count  Napier  shall  be  the  husband  of  my  little 
Vivienne.'  Three  days  later  I  looked  upon  his  lifeless 
body.    The  words  of  the  dead  cannot  be  changed." 

It  was  now  the  young  girl's  turn  to  think  before 
speaking.  The  position  that  her  brother  had  taken 
seemed,  for  the  moment  at  least,  unanswerable;  but 
woman's  wisdom,  like  her  wit,  is  equal  to  any  emer- 
gency. 

"  Brother  Pascal,"  she  began,  and  her  voice  was 
tremulous,  "  when  I  was  bereft  of  a  father's  and  a 
mother's  love,  you  took  their  place.  It  is  to  you  I 
have  always  looked  for  advice — both  Julien  and  I,  for 
you  are  so  much  older  and  wiser  than  we  are.  You 
have  taken  our  father's  place;  his  words  have  become 
your  words,  but  you  are  living  and  can  change  your 
words  and  free  me  from  this  bondage,  for  I  would 
rather  die  than  become  the  wife  of  Count  Napier,  or 
any  other  man  I  cannot  love." 

Pascal  Batistelli  set  his  teeth  tightly  together,  a  dark 
look  came  into  his  face.  "  Am  I  to  understand,  then, 
that  you  absolutely  refuse  to  marry  Count  Mont 
d'Oro?" 

"  Not  only  him,  but  any  one  else,"  answered  the  girl. 
"  I  am  content  as  I  am." 

She  turned  away  from  the  table,  walked  to  the  win- 
dow, and  looked  out  upon  the  grounds  which  stretched 
far  and  wide  from  the  castle  walls.  The  bright  sun- 
light fell  on  tree  and  bush  and  on  the  brightly  tinted 
flowers.  All  was  beauty  and  peace  without.  How 
could  nature  be  so  happy,  and  she  so  miserable  ?  Sud- 
denly she  turned  and  approached  her  brother,  who  had 
not  changed  his  position. 

"  When  did  you  wish  this  marriage  to  take  place  ? " 
she  asked,  making  a  vain  attempt  to  smile. 

"  On  your  eighteenth  birthday,"  he  said,  calmly. 

"  Oh,  I  have  some  time,  then,  to  wait,"  and  she  gave 


4  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

a  little  laugh.  "  You  may  tell  Count  Mont  d'Oro  that 
I  will  see  him.  I  will  tell  him  how  much  I  love  him. 
Then "  She  could  say  no  more.  With  a  convul- 
sive soh  she  turned  and  fled  from  the  room. 

"  When  a  woman  says  she  won't,  she  often  will," 
soliloquised  Pascal,  as  he  arose  and  went  to  the  window 
from  which  Vivienne  had  looked.  "  My  father  left  fine 
estates.  How  could  a  sensible  man  make  such  a  foolish 
wiU?" 

Pascal  took  a  small  silver  key  from  his  pocket,  and 
turning  to  an  old  escritoire,  opened  a  drawer  and  took 
therefrom  a  paper.  He  then  reseated  himself  at  the 
table.  "  I  should  not  have  known,"  said  he  to  him- 
^If,  "  what  was  in  my  father's  will  if  I  had  not  bribed 
the  notary  to  break  the  seals  and  make  me  a  copy.  It  is 
well  to  know  what  the,  future  has  in  store  for  you — and 
for  others.  My  father  executed  a  document  by  which 
I  was  made  guardian  of  my  brother  Julien  and  my  sis- 
ter Vivienne,  until  they  became  of  age,  I  to  supply  all 
their  wants  as  their  father  would  have  done.  By  a 
strange  coincidence,  my  brother  Julien  is  exactly  seven 
years  older  than  my  sister.  In  a  few  months  he  will 
be  twenty-five  and  she  eighteen.  The  will  must  then 
be  opened  and  what  I  alone  know — I  do  not  count  the 
notary,  for  I  have  paid  him  his  price — all  will  know." 
Then  he  read  the  document  carefully : 

"  If  my  daughter  Vivienne  marries  Count  Mont 
d'Oro's  son  I^apier,  on  or  before  her  eighteenth  birth- 
day, as  he  will  be  wealthy  in  his  own  right,  and  I  wish 
the  marriage  to  be  one  of  love,  my  estates  shall  be 
divided  equally  between  my  two  sons,  Pascal  and 
Julien,  if  both  are  living ;  if  but  one  be  living,  then  to 
him,  and  if  both  should  die  and  my  daughter  live,  all 
shall  go  to  her.  If  she  does  not  marry  Count  Mont 
d'Oro's  son  N"apier  for  lack  of  love  of  him,  half  of  my 
estate  shall  become  hers.  As  Pascal  will  have  had  the 
entire  income  of  my  estate  for  eighteen  years,  he  will 


BROTHERLY  LOVE.  5 

be  worth  much,  and  the  other  half  of  my  estate  shall  go 
to  Julien,  if  living;  if  not,  all  shall  go  to  Vivienne." 

"  A  very  unfair  will,"  said  Pascal,  as  he  replaced 
the  document  in  the  escritoire.  "  If  the  dead  could 
come  back,  such  injustice  would  probably  be  remedied." 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  which  opened  almost 
inmiediately  and  Adolphe,  Pascal's  valet,  entered. 

"  The  Count  Mont  d'Oro." 

"  Admit  him,"  said  Pascal,  and  a  moment  later  the 
young  Count  advanced  with  outstretched  hand,  ex- 
claiming even  before  their  hands  met : 

"  What  news  ?     What  news  ?     What  does  she  say  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  impatience  of  you  young  lovers !  "  cried 
Pascal.  "  I  think  the  leaven  of  love  must  have  been 
left  out  of  my  composition.  I  have  never  yet  met  a 
woman  who  could  put  such  fire  into  my  blood  as  there 
seems  to  be  in  yours,  my  dear  Count." 

"  "No  more  about  me.  Let  us  speak  of  her.  What 
does  she  say  ?  " 

"  Do  not  be  too  impatient  Even  if  I  could  repeat 
her  very  words,  I  could  not  say  them  just  as  she  did.  I 
can  but  translate  them  into  a  cold,  formal  phrase.  She 
will  see  you." 

"  I  thought  she  would,"  cried  the  young  Count,  "  and 
when  I  kneel  and  lay  my  love  at  her  feet,  she  will  ac- 
cept me  and  make  me  the  happiest  of  men." 

"  Be  not  too  confident,"  said  Pascal ;  "  she  is  young 
and  wilful.  You  know  the  Batistellis  are  a  deter- 
mined race.  I  did  not  try  to  plead  your  cause.  I  am 
not  used  to  love-making,  and  I  felt  that  I  should  injure 
your  prospects  if  I  spoke  in  your»behalf.  But  I  warn 
you  that  you  must  use  your  eloquence  and  not  appear 
too  confident  at  the  first." 

The  Count  laughed.  It  was  not  an  honest,  sincere 
laugh.  A  good  judge  of  human  nature  would  have 
detected  in  it  a  hollow  sound — ^more  of  mockery  than  of 
true  passion. 


6  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  One  can  see  by  looking  at  you,  Pascal,  that  you  are 
not  an  Adonis.  You  are  not  to  blame  if  you  have  not 
the  graces  of  Apollo.  I  have  not  descended  from  the 
ancient  gods  of  Greece,  but  I  have  had  an  experience 
which  even  they  might  envy.  I  have  run  the  gamut  of 
Parisian  society  from  the  ante-chamber  of  royalty  to  the 
gutter,  and  in  Paris  there  are  beauties  to  be  found  even 
in  the  gutter." 

"  I  would  not  tell  Vivienne  that,"  suggested  Pas- 
cal. 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  the  Count;  "  she  is  young  and 
inexperienced  and  would  not  understand." 

"  She  might  not  understand,"  said  Pascal,  "  but  on 
the  other  hand  she  might  imagine  more  than  the  truth, 
and  that  would  be  fatal  to  your  prospects,  for  I  warn 
you.  Count,  that  she  is  a  woman  who  will  not  marry  a 
man  she  does  not  love,  and  she  will  insist  that  he  love 
her  and  her  only." 

Again  the  Count  laughed.  "  Why,  even  the  King  of 
France  cannot  command  so  much  as  that.  I  suppose  I 
must  bury  the  past  She  is  worth  it  By  the  way, 
my  dear  Pascal,  I  think  you  told  me  that  in  case  she 
marries  me  before  her  eighteenth  birthday,  the  estates 
go  with  her." 

"  My  father  made  a  most  foolish  will,"  said  Pascal, 
guardedly. 

"  That  is  what  troubles  me,"  said  the  Count  "  I 
feel  like  a  robber;  as  though  I  had  placed  a  pistol  at 
your  head  and  said,  '  Pascal  Batistelli,  give  me  your 
sister  and  your  estates  or  you  are  a  dead  man.'  "  Then 
he  added,  after  a  moment's  thought :  "  I  do  not  think 
that  I  can  do  it,  after  all.  I  think  I  shall  go  back  to 
Paris." 

"  Theto.  you  do  not  love  my  sister  ?  "  queried  Pascal. 
He  did  not  think  the  Count  meant  what  he  said,  but  it 
suited  his  purpose  to  take  the  remark  seriously. 

"  When  I  am  with  her,  yes,"  said  the  Count ;  "  then 


BROTHERLY  LOVE.  7 

your  sister  Vivienne  is  the  divine  She;  but,  as  I  told 
you,  there  are  beautiful  women  in  Paris." 

Pascal  felt  the  ground  slipping  from  under  his  feet. 
"  When  you  are  married.  Count,  you  can  go  to  Paris ; 
you  are  not  obliged  to  live  here  in  this  dull  placa" 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  they  will  know  that  I  am  married." 
Then,  with  a  conceit  which  did  not  seem  particularly 
offensive  on  account  of  the  manner  in  which  it  was 
spoken,  he  added :  "  And,  you  know,  I  am  quite  a  catch 
myself." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Pascal,  "  and  when  the  estates  of 
Mont  d'Oro  and  Batistelli  are  united,  I  have  no  doubt 
that  many  a  fair  eye  in  Paris  will  be  wet  with  tears." 

"  Well  spoken,  my  dear  Pascal,"  cried  the  Count,  as 
he  threw  his  arm  about  the  neck  of  his  prospective 
brother-in-law. 

Pascal  did  not  appreciate  the  caress,  but  the  urgency 
of  the  situation  prevented  his  refusing  it.  "  But  you 
will  see  her  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  cried  the  Count.  "  My  father  wished 
this  marriage  to  take  place ;  my  mother  does  not  think 
that  I  am  good  enough  for  your  sister.  That  is  one 
reason  why  I  am  determined  to  marry  her.  To- 
morrow ?  " 

"  Yes,  to-morrow,"  said  Pascal ;  "  any  hour  in  the 
morning.  We  breakfast  at  eight ;  no  earlier  than  that, 
of  course." 

"  Don't  worry,"  said  the  Count,  "  I  do  not  rise  until 
nine.  By  half-past  ten  she  may  expect  her  ardent 
suitor."  He  flourished  his  hat  through  the  air,  bowed 
low  to  Pascal  before  placing  it  on  his  head,  and  a 
moment  later  was  gone. 

Pascal  walked  to  the  window  and  looked  again  upon 
the  far-reaching  acres  of  the  Batistelli  estate.  "  She 
must  marry  him ;  then  T  shall  have  half.  That  precious 
brother  of  mine  will  be  killed  in  some  drunken  brawl  or 
die  a  sot,  then  all  will  be  mine." 


CHAPTER  n. 


» 


"A    MAN    MUST    HAVE    A    WIFE. 

The  Countess  Mont  d'Oro  and  her  son  l^apier  sat  at 
dinner  together.  They  rarely  spoke  on  such  occasions, 
and  the  meal  was  nearly  over  before  the  Countess 
looked  at  Lim  inquiringly  and  said : 

"  I  saw  you  go  over  to  the  Batistelli  house  this  morn- 
ing. Some  business  matter,  I  presume."  After  a 
pause,  she  asked,  "  Were  you  successful  ?  " 

"  It  was  connected  with  my  own  personal  affairs," 
replied  the  Count,  curtly. 

"  I  suppose  from  your  answer  that  you  mean  it  is 
none  of  my  business." 

"  The  inference  is  your  own,"  was  the  reply. 

Both  were  silent  for  a  while,  then  the  Countess  re- 
sumed :  "  Did  you  see  Vivienne  ?  " 

"  She  was  in  the  house ;  you  can  infer  again." 

The  Countess  was  cut  by  the  last  remark.  Her  man- 
ner of  speaking  had  been  pleasant,  but  there  was  a  tone 
in  her  son's  reply  that  fired  her  Italian  blood. 

"  I  believe  I  have  th*^  most  impudent  son  in  Corsica." 

"  I  am  sure  that  I  have  the  most  loving  mother  in  all 
France,"  said  the  Count,  calmly. 

To  equalise  a  quarrel,  when  one  of  the  participants  is 
angry  the  other  should  also  be  angry.  It  is  unfair  for 
one  to  remain  cool,  calm,  and  collected,  while  the  other 
is  worked  up  to  a  fury  of  passion.  If  two  soldiers  meet 
in  battle,  one  with  a  sword  four  feet  long  and  the  other 
with  one  but  half  that  length,  the  contest  is  unequal; 
the  one  with  the  long  sword  keeps  the  other  contestant 
at  a  distance,  though  the  latter  makes  vain  attacks  upo5, 

8 


«  A  MAN  MUST  HAVE  A  WIFE."  9 

his  well-protected  adversary.  So  in  a  lingual  battle, 
the  one  who  keeps  his  temper,  who  does  not  allow  his 
voice  to  rise  above  an  ordinary  pitch,  is  the  soldier  with 
the  long  sword. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Countess  Mont  d'Oro 
allowed  these  thoughts  to  pass  through  her  mind.  She 
replied  promptly  to  her  son's  sarcastic  allusion  to  her 
,love  for  him. 

"  Why  should  I  love  you  ?  "  she  cried.  "  Even  when 
a  child  you  had  an  ungovernable  temper,  and  since  you 
have  grown  up — I  will  not  say  since  you  became  a  man 
— your  extravagance,  your  disregard  of  my  wishes, 
even  the  slightest  of  them — ^has  driven  from  my  heart 
any  love  that  I  might  have  had  for  you.  I  am  glad 
that  your  father  lived  long  enough  to  understand  you. 
He  did  wisely  in  leaving  all  to  me.  I  was  to  make  you 
an  allowance  at  my  discretion.  I  have  paid  your  debts 
— ^gambling  debts,  I  suppose  they  were  principally — 
until  my  own  income  is  greatly  impaired." 

"  And  why  have  you  been  so  generous  ?  "  asked  her 
son. 

"  To  avoid  scandal.  I  did  not  wish  our  family 
affairs  to  become  a  subject  for  Parisian  gossip.  I  do 
not  care  for  what  is  said  here  in  Corsica,  but  such  news 
travels  fast." 

"  I  presume  from  what  you  have  said  that  you  intend 
to  cut  off  my  allowance  ?  " 

"I  do,  as  soon  as  you  are  married  to  Vivienne  Batis- 
telli.  You  must  remember  that  I  am  not  yet  forty — I 
may  marry  again,  and  I  do  not  wish  my  husband  to 
have  a  dowerless  bride." 

The  Count  smiled  grimly.  "  It  is  all  right  for  me 
to  become  a  pensioner  on  my  wife's  bounty  ?  " 

"  Under  the  circumstances,  yes,"  said  the  Countess. 
"  She  will  have  enough.  She  will  have  all,  and  it  is 
right  she  should.  The  property  has  been  in  Pascal's 
hands  for  the  past  eighteen  years,  and  a  man  of  his  dis- 


10  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

position  has  not  let  any  of  it  slip  through  his  fingers,  of 
that  you  may  be  sure.  He  has  enough  to  set  up  for 
himself,  and  I  suppose  there  are  plenty  of  women  who 
would  have  him,  disagreeable  as  he  is." 

"  Why  not  marry  him  yourself  ?  "  asked  the  Count. 
"  You  would  then  be  placed  above  all  possible  fear  of 
want." 

The  Countess  arose  from  her  chair.  She  did  not 
speak  until  she  reached  the  door  of  the  dining-room; 
then  she  turned :  "  It  is  some  time  since  you  asked  your 
last  question,  but  I  suppose  you  would  like  an  answer. 
Considering  my  experience  as  your  mother,  I  have  no 
desire  to  become  your  eister-in-law." 

As  his  mother  closed  the  door  Count  ^tTapier  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  began  whistling  the  melody  of  a  French 
chanson.  "  I  may  have  a  bad  temper,  but  I  think  I 
know  where  I  got  it,"  he  muttered,  as  he  made  his  way 
to  the  stables. 

His  favorite  saddle-horse,  Apollo,  was  soon  ready, 
and  making  a  cut  at  the  stable-boy  with  his  whip  to  re- 
ward him  for  his  tardiness,  and  bestowing  another  upon, 
the  animal  to  show  him  that  a  master  held  the  reins,  he 
dashed  off  towards  Ajaccio. 

When  he  returned,  several  hours  later,  the  fire  of 
his  mother's  wrath,  to  a  great  extent,  had  burned  out. 
She  was  in  a  more  complacent  mood  and  asked, 
naturally :  "  Where  have  you  been,  IN'apier  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  Apollo  could  tell  you.  I  really  cannot 
remember." 

He  went  up  to  his  room. 

The  night  of  the  same  day  brought  little  sleep  to  the 
eyes  of  Vivienne  Batistelli.  She  would  doze,  and  in 
the  half-sleep  came  unpleasant  dreams.  A  dozen  times 
during  the  night  she  was  led  to  the  altar  by  Count  Mont 
d'Oro,  but  just  as  the  words  were  to  be  spoken  which 
would  have  united  their  lives  forever,  he  changed  into 
the  form  of  a  dragon,  or  something  equally  frightful, 


**A  MAN  MUST  HAVE  A  WIFE."  11 

and  slie  awoke  with  a  scream  to  find  herself  in  bed,  her 
heart  beating  violently,  and  the  room  filled  with  shad- 
ows which  carried  almost  as  much  terror  to  her  heart  as 
the  visions  which  she  had  seen  in  her  dreams.     -  ' 

At  last  her  mental  torture  became  unbearable.  She 
arose  and  dressed  herself.  Drawing  aside  the  heavy 
curtains,  she  saw  that  the  sun  was  nearly  up.  She 
went  into  the  garden.  The  dew  lay  thick  upon  the 
grass.  She  knelt  down  upon  the  green  carpet.  How 
cool  it  seemed  to  her  hands,  which  were  burning  as  with 
fire.  She  walked  along  one  of  the  paths  and  the  cool 
morning  breeze  refreshed  her.  Hearing  the  sound  of  a 
spade  against  a  rock,  she  turned  into  a  side  path. 

"  It's  early  ye  are  in  gettin'  up,"  said  Terence,  the 
gardener.  "  Ye  may  belave  me  or  not,  but  whin  ye 
turned  into  the  path  I  thought  the  sun  was  up  for 
sure." 

Vivienne  could  not  help  smiling.  "  Ah,  Terence,  you 
are  a  great  flatterer,  like  all  of  your  countrymen.  Do 
you  say  such  pretty  things  to  Snodine,  your  wife  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  did  before  we  wuz  married  and  some  time 
afther,  but  to  spake  the  truth,  I  sometimes  think  that 
Snodine's  good-nature  sun  has  set  and  I'm  afeared  it  '11 
never  come  up  again." 

"  Oh,"  said  Vivienne,  "  Snodine  is  not  such  a  bad 
wife.     She  has  a  sharp  tongue,  to  be  sure." 

"  Ah,  ah,  that  she  has ;  and  if  she  \vud  only  use  it  in 
the  garden  instid  of  on  me,  your  brother  would  not  have 
to  buy  so  many  spades." 

Vivienne  was  not  disposed  to  continue  the  conversa- 
tion, and  after  walking  to  the  end  of  a  long  path,  made 
her  way  back  without  again  coming  in  contact  with 
Terence.  As  she  approached  the  house  she  found  that 
her  old  nurse,  Clarine,  was  up.  She  must  have  seen 
Vivienne,  for  she  threw  open  the  window  of  her  room, 
on  the  ground  floor,  and  gave  the  young  girl  a  cheery 
good-moming. 


12  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?  "  asked  Vivieime. 

Clarine  ran  to  open  the  door,  and  as  Vivienne 
entered  she  took  the  young  girl  in  her  arms  and  kissed 
her.  "  Can  you  come  in  ?  You  know  you  can. 
Whenever  you  wish  to  see  Clarine,  you  may  always 
come  without  the  asking.  I  served  your  father  and 
your  grandfather,  and  I  will  serve  you  as  long  as  I 
live,"  and  the  old  lady  made  a  curtsy  to  intensify  the 
effect  of  her  words. 

"  I  want  to  talk  with  you,  Clarine,"  said  Vivienne. 
"  I  am  in  great  trouble." 

"  Trouble !  "  cried  Clarine.  "  There  is  enough 
trouble  falling  upon  the  house  of  Batistelli  without  its 
being  visited  upon  your  innocent  head.  What  is  the 
matter,  darling  ? "  and  she  drew  the  young  girl  to- 
wards her.  "  But  we  cannot  talk  here.  Come  to 
my  room,  and  we  will  sit  down  and  you  can  tell  me  all 
about  it." 

"  Why,"  exclaimed  Vivienne,  as  they  entered  the 
roc«n,  "  Old  Manassa  is  here." 

"  Yes,"  said  Clarine,  "  the  very  minute  I  am  dressed 
he  insists  upon  coming  in  and  sitting  in  that  arm-chair. 
I  suppose  if  I  gave  it  to  him  he  would  not  be  so  anxious 
to  visit  me,  but  I  won't  do  it.  It  belonged  to  your 
grandfather.  I  was  taken  sick  once  and  he  sent  the 
chair  to  me  because  it  was  so  comfortable.  When  I  got 
better  he  gave  it  to  me  and  nothing  would  induce  me 
to  part  with  it,  or  even  let  it  go  out  of  my  sight.  But 
don't  worry  about  him,  Vivienne,  for  he  is  sound 
asleep." 

With  her  head  pillowed  upon  the  breast  of  her  old 
nurse,  who  had  been  a  mother  to  her  so  far  as  it  lay  in 
her  power,  Vivienne  told  of  her  interview  with  her 
brother,  and  how  determined  he  was  that  she  should 
marry  Count  Mont  d'Oro. 

"  Oh,  what  shall  I  do,  Clarine?  " 

The  old  nurse  pursed  her  lips  and  shook  her  head 


«  A  MAN  MUST  HAVE  A  WIFE."  13 

wisely.  "  Become  engaged  to  him.  Engagements  and 
marriages  are  two  different  things,  Vivienne." 

"  Oh,  I  could  not  do  that,  Clarine.  I  could  not 
make  a  promise  that  I  did  not  intend  to  keep." 

"  I  would  not  ask  you  to,"  said  Clarine.  "  You  can 
intend  to  keep  it,  but  circumstances  may  prevent  you." 

Then  Vivienne  told  of  the  fearful  dreams  she  had 
had  during  the  night. 

"  Oh,  I  can  never  do  it,"  she  cried.  "  I  will  never 
marry  Count  Mont  d'Oro.  They  say,  do  they  not, 
Clarine,  that  Manuel  Delia  Coscia  killed  my  father  ?  " 

"  All  Corsica  believes  it,"  said  Clarine,  and  she 
crossed  herself  reverently. 

"  Now,  listen,  Clarine ;  if  the  son  of  Manuel  Delia 
Coscia  asked  my  hand  in  marriage,  I  would  give  it  to 
him  as  soon  as  to  Count  Xapier." 

Old  Manassa  had  been  leaning  upon  the  head  of  his 
heavy  stick.  It  fell  from  his  hands  to  the  floor  with  a 
crash. 

"  Why,  what  was  that  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Didn't  I  hear 
somebody  talking?  I  thought  I  heard  the  name  of 
Manuel  Delia  Coscia." 

"  IN'onsense,  Manassa !  "  cried  Clarine.  "  You  have 
been  at  your  old  trick  of  dreaming  and  then  waking  up 
and  thinking  your  dream  was  real.  Now,  go  right  to 
sleep  again.  You  cannot  have  your  breakfast  for  an 
hour  yet." 

"  I  am  sure  he  heard  everything  that  we  have  said," 
Vivienne  whispered  in  Clarine's  ear. 

"  Oh,  no,  he  is  always  like  that,  but  even  if  he  did 
hear,  I  will  convince  him  that  he  dreamt  it." 

"  Come  into  the  garden,  Clarine.  I  do  not  wish  to 
say  anything  that  can  be  overheard." 

At  some  distance  from  the  house  they  sat  upon  a 
bench  beneath  the  drooping  branches  of  a  tree  which 
formed  a  natural  arbour. 

"  I   have   something   to   tell  you,    Vivienne,"    said 


14  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Clarine.  "  I  had  a  dream,  too,  last  night,  but  there  is  a 
good  thing  about  my  dreams — they  always  come  true — 
and  it  was  about  you." 

"  My  fate  must  have  been  pleasanter  than  it  is  likely 
to  be,"  said  Vivienne,  "  judging  from  your  manner." 

"  Listen,  Vivienne,"  said  Clarine,  "  you  can  judge 
for  yourself.  I  thought  you  were  betrothed  to  a  man 
whom  you  did  not  love  and  you  were  very  unhappy; 
then  a  stranger  came ;  he  was  young  and  handsome  and 
your  heart  went  out  to  him.  He  met  Count  Mont 
d'Oro  and  they  quarrelled — they  fought — the  Count 
was  killed  and  you  married  the  stranger." 

"  How  foolish,  Clarine !  But  you  know  they  say 
dreams  go  by  contraries." 

As  they  walked  back  to  the  house,  Clarine  said: 
"  Take  my  advice,  Vivienne,  and  tell  the  Count  that 
you  will  marry  him.  You  must  trust  in  the  One  above. 
Your  Heavenly  Father  doeth  all  things  well — if  it  is  to 
be,  it  will  be." 

Old  Manassa  had  not  been  sleeping.  He  had  over- 
heard ..hat  had  passed  between  Vivienne  and  her  nurse. 
Immediately  after  they  had  gone  into  the  garden,  he 
made  his  way  to  his  master's  room.  He  found  Pascal 
Batistelli  alone. 

"  Ah,  this  is  a  sad  day  for  the  house  of  Batistelli," 
he  cried.     "  She  is  unworthy  of  the  name." 

"  Why,  what  has  happened  now  ?  "  asked  Pascal. 

"  I  heard  her  say  it — ^your  sister  Vivienne." 

"  Heard  her  say  what  ?  "  cried  Pascal.  "  Why  don't 
you  speak  out  and  not  stand  mimibling  there  ?  " 

"  I  heard  her  say  that  she  would  as  soon  marry 
the  son  of  Manuel  Delia  Coscia  as  give  her  hand  t® 
Count  Mont  d'Oro.  It  is  true.  I  heard  it.  I  swear 
I  did." 

Pascal  took  a  silver  coin  from  his  purse  and  threw  it 
towards  Manassa. 

"  I  see,  you  must  be  out  of  tobacco ;  but  keep  your 


«  A  MAN  MUST  HAVE  A  WIFE."  16 

eyes  shut  and  your  ears  open  and  tell  me  all  you  hear. 
Is  your  gin  bottle  empty  yet  ?  " 

"  Not  quite,"  said  Manassa. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  telling  me  what  you  heard," 
said  Pascal,  "  but  go  now ;  I  am  busy." 

The  old  man  shambled  towards  the  door.  As  he  went 
out  he  muttered  to  himself:  "  She  is  unworthy  of  the 
name  of  Batistelli." 

Some  hours  later  Vivienne  was  again  walking  in  the 
garden.  She  knew  that  the  Count  was  coming  to  see 
her — she  knew  what  he  was  going  to  say — she  knew 
what  her  answer  was  expected  to  be.  She  determined 
that  the  interview  should  not  take  place  within-doors. 
Since  talking  with  Clarine,  she  had  prayed  fervently 
for  Heavenly  guidance,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  it 
would  come  more  quickly,  more  directly,  if  she  were  in 
the  garden  with  the  trees,  the  flowers,  and  the  birds 
about  her,  and  the  blue  sky  overhead. 

The  greater  part  of  Vivienne's  education  had  been 
drawn  from  nature.  She  had  learned  little  from  books 
or  from  contact  with  others.  Her  life  had  been  circum- 
scribed in  many  ways,  and  such  a  life  makes  one  intro- 
spective. The  dweller  in  a  large  city  who  has  so  much 
to  attract,  to  interest  him  and  take  up  his  time,  who  gets 
but  a  glimpse  of  the  sky  between  the  house-tops,  be- 
comes superficial  and  does  little  deep  thinking ;  but  one 
who  lives  in  the  country,  largely  apart  from  his  fellow 
man,  who  sees  the  wide  expanse  of  heaven  every  day, 
feels  as  though  he  were  closer  to  the  Great  Power — 
thinks  more  of  the  future  and  looks  searchiiigly  into 
his  o%vTi  heart,  seeking  to  determine  his  probable  fate 
when  his  good  deeds  and  bad  deeds,  his  sins  of  omis- 
sion and  commission,  are  scanned  by  the  great  Judge. 

"  And  how  is  Mademoiselle  Batistelli  this  beautiful 
morning  ?  "  asked  Count  Napier. 

Vivienne,  startled  from  her  reverie,  quickly  decided 


16  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

that  he  should  not  come  to  the  point  at  once.  She  knew 
his  forceful  manner  of  speech,  and  determined  not  to 
allow  her  heart  to  be  carried  by  storm.     She  answered : 

"  I  am  not  well — ^not  sick,  but  worried.  Julien  was 
out  all  night     What  will  the  end  be  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he'll  get  married  some  time  and  settle  down." 

"  And  who  would  have  him — a  drunkard  ?  I  should 
pity  her  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart" 

"  You  look  at  the  matter  too  seriously,"  said  the 
Count.  "  Most  men  are  drunkards — some  with  wine, 
some  with  women,  but  more  with  love.  I  was  talking 
to  your  brother  Pascal  yesterday  about  our  future." 

Vivienne  clasped  her  hands  and  looked  into  his  face, 
appealingly. 

"  We  can  have  no  future  together,  Count  Mont 
d'Oro ;  I  do  not  love  you." 

"  Well,  as  to  that,"  cried  the  Count,  jauntily, 
"  neither  do  I  love  you,  but  I  respect  and  admire  you." 

The  appealing  look  left  Vivienne's  face ;  in  its  place 
came  an  expression  of  determination. 

"  I  wish  to  be  loved — by  my  husband." 

"  You  must  have  been  reading  English  novels,"  said 
the  Count.  "  In  them  you  will  find  the  word  '  home,' 
but  we  have  nothing  like  it  in  French.  It  may  be  that 
the  word  '  love '  has  no  exact  counterpart  in  our  lan- 
guage. You  must  be  content,  as  most  Frenchwomen 
are,  with  the  love  of  your  children." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Vivienne.  "  If  they  are  not  the 
offspring  of  love,  they  will  have  no  love.  It  is  too  great 
a  risk." 

"  We  must  take  risks  in  this  life,"  said  the  Count. 
"  I  will  take  you  to  Paris  with  me.  You  can  enjoy 
yourself  there;  it  is  so  different  from  this  dull,  sleepy 
place." 

He  had  tried  the  old  form  of  temptation.  By  it 
Faust  had  won  Marguerite ;  but  Vivienne  was  made  of 
sterner  stuff. 


«A  MAN  MUST  HAVE  A  WIFE."  17 

"  I  care  nothing  for  Paris  or  its  sinful  life ;  your 
mother  has  told  me  of  it.  I  love  my  home — every  stone 
in  this  old  castle  is  dear  to  me,  and  my  heart  will  always 
be  here." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  Count,  "  I  understand  you.  Your 
kusband  must  be  content  to  live  here  and  never  go  to 
Paris." 

"  If  he  loves  me  as  I  shall  love  him,  he  will  be  content 
to  stay  here  with  me." 

Count  Xapier  Mont  d'Oro  felt  sure  that  his  mother 
intended  to  cut  off  his  allowance  when  he  became  the 
husband  of  Vivienne;  in  fact,  she  might  do  so  even  if 
that  event  did  not  take  place.  Thrown  upon  his  own 
resources,  he  knew  his  only  means  of  existence  would 
be  the  gambling-table.  He  was  wild,  ungovernable, 
criminal  in  many  ways,  but  he  did  not  look  forward 
with  unmixed  pleasure  to  a  sinful  life.  He  was  honest 
with  himself  in  that  he  knew  he  thought  more  of  the 
rich  Batistelli  estates  than  of  the  fair  young  girl  who 
bore  the  name.  He  thoroughly  believed  in  laissez-faire. 
His  philosophy  was  very  much  like  that  of  Clarine; 
take  a  step  that  does  not  exactly  please  you  and  trust 
that  fate  will  so  order  your  future  that  you  will  not  be 
obliged  to  take  another  like  it 

Apparently  dropping  conversation  on  the  subject  up- 
permost in  their  minds,  he  said :  "  I  am  going  back  to 
Paris,  but  for  a  little  while  only.  I  have  some  busi- 
ness matters  there  to  attend  to — I  mean  to  close  up. 
Then  I  am  coming  back  to  Corsica  to  settle  down. 
After  all,  I  think  you  are  right ;  Parisian  life  is  like 
fireworks — there  is  a  snap  and  a  go  and  a  very  pretty 
sight  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  it  is  all  over.  But  the 
life  of  a  country  gentleman  is  solid  and  substantial. 
What  more  can  a  man  ask  in  this  world  than  a  faithful 
and  trusting  wife  and  beautiful  and  loving  children? 
As  these  pictures  pass  before  my  eyes,  I  know  which  one 
is  the  best  and  which  is  better  for  me,  but  before  I  go  I 


18  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

wish  to  be  sure  of  something  that  will  overcome  all 
temptation  to  stay  in  Paris,  something  to  bring  me 
back.  You  know,  sometimes  the  spirit  is  willing  but 
the  flesh  is  weak." 

"  Your  mother,"  uttered  Vivienne. 

"  ITo,  yourself,"  cried  the  Count 

"  But  you  do  not  love  me !  " 

"  I  have  said  that  1  did  not,  but  I  will  say  more — I 
love  no  one  else." 

Vivienne  was  in  a  quandary.  What  should  she  do  ? 
Her  own  mind  seemed  powerless  to  direct  her,  and 
almost  in  a  state  of  despair  she  recalled  the  advice 
Clarine  had  given. 

Forcing  a  smile  she  turned  towards  the  Count  "  If 
I  promise  to  marry  you,  Count,  if  before  I  become 
yours  you  see  another  whom  you  will  love,  will  you 
come  to  me  and  tell  me  ?  No,  no,  I  will  not  ask  that ; 
but  if  I  learn  that  you  do  love  some  one  else,  it  is  under- 
stood and  agreed  that  the  knowledge  of  that  fact  will 
free  me  from  the  carrying  out  of  my  promise  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  Count,  "  I  agree  to  that  will- 
ingly; it  is  but  fair  that  I  should."  He  took  her  hand 
in  his,  raised  it  to  his  lips  and  kissed  it.  "  This  is  the 
bond,"  he  cried ;  "  you  are  to  be  mine.  I  am  the 
happiest  man  in  Corsica." 

"  Do  not  say  that,"  cried  Vivienne.  "  You  have  no 
right  to  utter  those  words  until  I  look  into  your  face  and 
say  that  I  am  the  happiest  woman  in  Corsica." 

Shortly  after  Vivienne  had  given  her  promise  to  the 
Count,  he  made  his  way  to  her  brother. 

"  It  is  all  right,"  he  cried.  "  It  was  a  hard  fight, 
but  my  eloquence  won ;  she  has  promised  to  be  my  wife." 

"  But  when?  "  asked  Pascal. 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  go  so  far  as  to  fix  the  date.  That  is 
usually  left  to  the  lady,  you  know." 

"  But  it  must  be  soon,"  said  Pascal.  "  There  are 
weighty  reasons." 


"  A  MAN  MUST  HAVE  A  WIFE."  19 

The  Count  thought  of  his  mother's  reference  to  his 
allowance.  "  Yes,  there  are,"  he  replied.  "  We  must 
use  our  combined  eloquence  to  fix  the  marriage  for  an 
early  day." 

In  the  afternoon,  while  walking  in  the  garden,  Pascal 
met  Old  Manassa. 

"  She  has  promised  to  marry  him.  Manassa,  you 
'  are  an  old  fool.  You  should  have  been  in  your  grave 
long  ago." 

The  old  man  straightened  up ;  his  eyes  flashed.  "  I 
shall  not  die  until  I  see  ^fanuel  Delia  Coscia,  who 
murdered  your  father,  weltering  in  his  own  blood." 


CHAPTEK   III. 

"  PYI.ADES    AND    OEESTES." 

"  Are  you  going,  Vic  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  am  going.  I  have  been  ordered  to  join 
Admiral  Sir  Hugh  Walter's  flagship,  which  sails  for 
Halifax  in  a  week." 

"  I  do  not  mean  that.  What  I  want  to  know  is 
whether  you  are  going  to  Buckholme  with  me.  I  met 
Clarence  Glynne  on  the  Strand  yesterday,  and  he  gave 
me  a  most  cordial  invitation  to  come  out.  He  ex- 
tended it  to  me  in  the  name  of  his  father,  Miss  Ren- 
ville, and  himself." 

"  That  was  more  than  a  double-header,  Jack,"  said 
Victor ;  "  that  was  three  of  a  kind." 

"  I  hope  you  won't  consider  me  egotistical,  Victor, 
but  I  really  think  from  what  he  said  that  she  was  the 
instigator  of  the  invitation." 

The  one  addressed  as  Victor  was  silent  for  a  moment. 
He  cast  his  eyes  downward  as  though  thinking  the  mat- 
ter over.     At  last  he  said : 

"  Why  should  I  go.  Jack  ?  It  was  you  who  jumped 
into  the  river  and  saved  her  life,  for  she  sank  twice,  you 
will  remember.  Besides,  when  she  learns  that  you  are 
the  Honourable  John  De  Vinne,  and  likely  to  become — 
I  beg  your  pardon — Viscount  De  Vinne,  what  chance 
will  there  be  for  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  cried  Jack,  oblivious  of  his  friend's  remark, 
"  the  whole  picture  comes  back  to  me  so  vividly.  ^Hiat 
an  idiot  that  fellow  was  to  run  into  her  boat — and  then 
he  was  going  to  let  her  drown  because  he  could  not 
swim.    He  was  near  enough  to  row  up  and  pull  her  into 


"PYLADES  AND  ORESTES."  21 

his  boat  when  she  came  up  the  first  time.  Of  course  I 
had  to  swim  for  it,  and  dive  too.  I  think  a  man  who 
cannot  steer  a  boat  and  cannot  swim  should  stay  on 
land." 

"  Those  are  my  sentiments — exactly,"  remarked  Vic- 
tor. 

The  recalling  of  the  event — the  rescue  from  drown- 
ing of  Miss  Bertha  Renville  by  Mr.  Jack  De  Vinne — 
had  such  an  effect  upon  the  young  man  that  he  was  in 
a  very  excitable  condition. 

"  You  might  have  been  the  one,  Vic,  to  have  saved 
her  instead  of  me.  To  be  fair  about  it  we  should  have 
drawn  lots,  but,  as  you  say,  there  was  no  time  to  lose. 
Although  the  affair  happened  a  month  ago,  it  seems  as 
though  it  were  but  yesterday.  It  seemed  a  profana- 
tion, but  we  had  to  treat  her  just  as  though  she  were  a 
man  instead  of  a  woman.  You  ran  to  get  a  trap  and 
we  took  her  to  the  tavern  and  called  a  doctor,  then, 
when  she  was  once  more  herself,  we  drove  to  Buckholme 
with  her." 

"  You've  got  it  by  heart,"  said  Victor.  "  Do  you  re- 
member as  well  what  took  place  at  Buckholme  ?  How 
delighted  Clarence  was  and  the  half-hearted  thanks  of 
Mr.  Glynne,  Miss  Renville's  guardian?  What  a  roly- 
poly  sort  of  a  man  he  is. 

"  I  was  not  taken  with  his  outward  appearance,  and 
if  I  am  any  sort  of  a  judge  of  human  nature,  I  should 
say  that  he  houses  a  bad  heart  within  that  portly 
frame." 

"  I  must  confess,  Vic,  that  I  did  not  notice  the  man 
much.  I  was  thinking  of  her;  how  close  she  had  been 
to  death,  and  how  glad  I  was  to  have  been  the  means  of 
saving  her  life.  I  will  be  honest  with  you,  Vic,  and 
own  up — I  am  in  love  with  her.  She  is  the  most  beauti- 
ful girl  I  have  ever  seen  and  I  want  to  ask  your  advice. 
;What  do  you  know  about  me,  Victor  ?  " 

Victor    Duquesne    leaned    back    in   his    chair    and 


22  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

laughed.  "  Well,  Jack,  I  know  that  you  are  the  second 
son  of  an  earl — I  really  do  not  know  his  full  title — but 
in  England,  you  know,  the  second  son  of  an  earl  is  a 
mere  nobody  if  his  elder  brother  enjoys  good  health." 

"  You  have  hit  it  just  right,  Victor,"  said  Jack.  "  I 
am  really  a  nobody;  that's  why  I  went  into  the  Navy, 
but  I  hope  you  won't  take  that  remark  as  a  personal  re- 
flection. There  are  a  great  many  smart  men  in  the 
ISTavy,  and  you  are  one  of  them." 

"  Thanks,  Jack.  We  are  and  always  have  been  the 
best  of  friends.  I  hope  I  shall  serve  my  king  faith- 
fully and  well,  and  be  worthy  of  your  good  opinion. 
But  I  fancy  you  are  going  to  tell  me  something  about 
yourself,  for  some  reason  or  other  known  to  you,  but  at 
the  present  time,  unknoAvn  to  me." 

"  Well,  listen,"  said  Jack.  "  I  am  the  second  son  of 
the  Earl  of  Noxton.  My  father  obtained  considerable 
reputation  in  a  political  way  when  he  was  Lord  De 
Vinne,  and  although  ten  years  have  passed  since  he 
succeeded  to  the  Earldom,  he  prefers,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  to  be  known  as  Lord  De  Vinne.  Even  my 
mother  thinks  that  '  Lady  De  Vinne '  is  a  prouder  title 
than  '  Countess  I^oxton.'  My  father's  name  is  Carolus. 
I  think  he  has  told  me  at  least  a  hundred  times  how  one 
of  his  ancestors  came  over  with  William  of  Normandy, 
and  the  name  Carolus  has  always  been  borne  by  the 
heir  to  the  title." 

"  I  agree  with  your  father  and  mother,"  said  Victor. 
"  I  should  prefer  a  title  which  I  had  won  or  upon  which 
I  had  conferred  some  honour,  rather  than  one  simply 
bequeathed  to  me." 

Jack  continued :  "  My  mother  was  a  poor  girl  and, 
they  say,  very  beautiful.  She  can  bring  forward 
neither  of  her  sons,  however,  as  evidence  of  that  fact. 
Her  name  is  Caroline.  I  have  sometimes  fancied  that 
its  similarity  to  Carolus  had  no  small  influence  with 
my  father.     Now,  to  come  to  the  point.     My  brother 


"PYLADES  AND  ORESTES."  23 

Carohis,  who  is  five  years  older  than  I,  is  engaged  to 
Lady  Angeline  Ashmont.  He  has  been  an  invalid  for 
some  years  and  is  now  in  Germany,  taking  the  baths." 

"  A  temporary  illness,  I  hope,"  said  Victor. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Jack.  "  He  has  been  a  great 
student,  and  instead  of  riding  horseback  and  hunting 
and  swimming,  as  I  have  done  all  my  life,  he  stayed 
cooped  up  in  his  den  working,  I  believe,  on  the  gene- 
alogy of  the  family.  He  is  as  thin  as  a  rail  and  as 
white  as  a  ghost." 

"  He  has  been  overworking,"  suggested  Victor. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Jack ;  "  time  thrown  away,  I 
have  always  told  him.  When  he  inherits,  which  will 
be  some  years  from  ^ow,  for  my  paternal  is  as  tough  as 
a  knot,  I  suppose  I  shall  have  a  small  allowance  from 
him.  I  shall  go  into  the  Navy  for  a  few  years — maybe 
for  life.     I  wish  we  could  go  on  the  same  ship." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Victor. 

The  two  young  men  were  old  friends;  they  had  at- 
tended the  same  schools  together,  and  together  had  re- 
ceived their  naval  training.  Their  regard  for  each 
other  had  been  so  marked  that  their  fellows  had  dubbed 
them  "  Pylades  and  Orestes."  Neither  had  been  called 
upon  to  suffer  or  die  for  the  other,  but  the  tie  that 
bound  them  was  so  strong  that,  had  it  been  put  to  the 
test,  either  would  have  proved  himself  worthy  of  his 
ancient  namesake. 

Jack  gave  a  long,  deep  sigh. 

"  What's  the  matter.  Jack  ?  "  asked  Victor.  "  Are 
you  thinking  of  Miss  Renville  ?  " 

"  No,  Victor,  of  you.  What  happy  years  we  have 
passed  together;  and  now  our  ways  part.  You  have 
forged  ahead  of  me  and  are  now  a  lieutenant,  while  I — 
poor  Jack — with  inferior  ability,  have  to  be  content 
with  lower  rank !  You  deserve  the  good  fortune,  Vic, 
but  your  friends  must  have  great  influence  with  the 
Admiralty." 


24  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  I  have  no  friends,"  said  Victor ;  "  only  one — yon, 
Jack.  The  reason  for  my  appointment  is  as  inexplica- 
ble to  me  as  it  is  to  you.  Of  course  I  had  a  mother,  but 
my  father  never  spoke  of  her.  I  have  not  seen  him 
for  twelve  years — since  I  was  ten  years  old,  when  he 
put  me  to  school — ^the  one  where  I  first  met  you.  My 
expenses  have  been  paid,  but  no  word  of  any  kind  has 
come  from  him." 

"  He  is  a  man  of  mystery,"  said  Jack,  "  but  nearly 
all  mysteries  are  cleared  up  in  time,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  yours  will  be.  By  the  way,  what  is  the  name  of 
Sir  Hugh's  flagship  ?  " 

"  Strange,  is  it  not.  Jack,  she  is  called  the  Orestes; 
so  you  see  I  shall  have  a  constant  reminder  of  our  past 
friendship." 

"  '  Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot,'  "  hummed 
Jack.  Then  he  cried :  "  Come,  Victor,  we  must  go  back 
to  first  principles;  say  yes  or  no — will  you  come  to 
Buckholme  with  me  ?  " 

Victor  hesitated.  "  Well — perhaps.  Do  you  know, 
I  have  thought.  Jack,  that  Mr.  Glynne  may  have  spoken 
to  the  Admiralty  about  me.  You  know  he  is  in  the 
iron  and  steel  trade  and  is  brought  into  business  rela- 
tions with  them.  Yes,  I  will  go.  I  will  try  to  find  out 
whether  he  had  anything  to  do  with  it.  If  he  had, 
although  he  does  remind  me  of  a  small  elephant  every 
time  I  look  at  him,  I  will  give  him  a  credit  mark  for 
his  kindness." 

The  conversation  just  narrated  took  place  at  Victor 
Duquesne's  apartments  in  London.  As  he  had  told 
Jack,  his  bills  had  been  paid  regularly  and  his  allowance 
had  not  been  a  niggardly  one.  This  enabled  him  to  have 
a  sitting-room  and  a  chamber,  and  he  could  have  af- 
forded a  valet  had  he  been  so  disposed. 

"  You  must  not  back  out  of  your  promise,  Victor," 
said  Jack,  as  he  exended  his  hand ;  "  shake !  That 
settles  it    You  are  booked  for  Buckholme." 


"PYLADES  AND  ORESTES."  26 

"  And  you  for  Bertha,"  said  Victor,  and  they  both 
laughed. 

At  that  moment  there  was  a  light  tap  on  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  cried  the  two  young  men  together. 

The  door  was  opened  for  a  short  distance  and  the 
face  of  an  untidy  maid-of -all-work,  with  unkempt  hair, 
appeared. 

"  Come  in,"  again  cried  Victor. 

"  I  don't  care  to,"  said  the  slavey.  "  I  don't  look 
well  enough,  and  Mrs.  Launders  said  if  I  dared  go  in 
she'd  give  it  to  me  when  I  got  back." 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  asked  Victor,  somewhat  im- 
patiently. 

"  I've  got  a  letter  for  you,"  said  Sarah,  the  slavey, 
"  and  if  you'll  excuse  me,  I'll  throw  it  in  and  you  can 
pick  it  up." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  the  letter  flew  high, 
in  the  air  and  then  fell  to  the  floor.  Sarah  slammed 
the  door,  and  her  heavy  boots  were  heard  clattering 
upon  the  stairs  all  the  way  down. 

Victor  sprang  forward  and  picked  up  the  letter.  He 
looked  first  at  the  postmark.  "  Ajaccio,"  he  cried. 
"  It  is  from  Corsica.  I  am  not  acquainted  with  any 
person  there."  He  held  the  sealed  letter  in  his  hand 
and  regarded  it. 

"  Never  fool  with  a  letter,"  cried  Jack.  "  Cut  it 
open,  tear  it  open,  and  know  the  best  or  worst  as  soon 
as  possible.  To  me,  a  man  who  is  afraid  to  open  a  letter 
is  like  a  gambler  who  is  uncertain  whether  to  stake  his 
last  shilling  or  not." 

"This  is  my  letter,  Jack,  and  I  propose  to  regard 
the  outside  of  it  as  long  as  I  choose  before  perusing 
its  contents." 

Although  the  words  had  a  sharpness  in  them,  there 
was  a  look  in  Victor's  eye  as  he  spoke  which,  robbed 
them  of  any  intention  to  offend. 

"  All  right,  old  boy,"  said  Jack.     "  Don't  let  m,e 


26  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

hurry  you.  Why  not  leave  it  on  your  table  until  you  get 
back  from  Buckholme  ?  My  father  is  a  man  of  wisdom. 
He  has  a  large  correspondence,  but  he  never  gets  ready 
to  answer  his  letters  until  they  are  about  six  months 
old.  During  that  time  he  says  half  of  them  have  been 
answered  by  the  course  of  events,  and  it  is  too  late  to 
answer  the  others ;  so  in  that  way  he  has  not  gained  a 
very  wide  reputation  as  a  letter-writer." 

Victor  broke  the  seal,  unfolded  the  sheet,  and  spread 
it  carefully  on  the  table  before  him.  Reading  it 
through  quickly,  he  cried: 

"  Jack  listen  to  this : 

"  My   Deae   Victor  :    Come   to    Corsica    at   once. 
"When  you  reach  Ajaccio,  I  will  communicate  with  you 
secretly  by  messenger.    Hear  all,  but  say  nothing.     Se© 
Admiral  Enright  and  sail  with  him  on  the  Osprey. 
"  Your  father, 

"  HeCTOB  DuQUESIfE." 

Victor  laid  the  letter  upon  the  table,  and  as  he 
brought  his  hand  down  forcibly  upon  it,  he  cried: 
"  Now,  what  does  that  mean.  Jack  ?  " 

"  It's  just  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face,  Victor. 
It  was  your  father  who  got  the  appointment  for  you. 
Tom  Ratcliffe  is  going  with  Enright,  who  is  ordered  to 
cruise  in  the  Mediterranean.  Corsica,  unless  my  geo- 
graphical knowledge  is  twisted,  is  in  the  Mediterranean ; 
so  you  see  your  father  has  fixed  things  all  right." 

Victor  sprang  to  his  feet  "  Then  I  must  see  En- 
right at  once.  Whether  I  go  to  Buckholme  or  not  de- 
pends upon  when  he  sails." 

That  evening  Victor  was  at  Jack's  rooms. 

"  I  have  got  my  transfer,  Jack,"  he  cried  as  he 
entered  the  room. 

"  Lucky  boy,"  was  Jack's  comment,  "  everything 
goes  your  way." 


"PYLADES  AND  ORESTES."  27 

"  I  don't  think  it  would  have,"  said  Victor,  "  but 
upon  one  occasion  when  Admiral  Enright  visited  the 
Naval  Academy,  he  was  accompanied  by  his  daughter, 
Miss  Helen.  For  some  reason  or  other,  probably  on 
account  of  my  well-known  affability,  I  was  detailed 
to  escort  her  and  show  her  the  great  attractions  of  the 
Academy.  I  could  not  find  him  to-day  at  the  Ad- 
miralty and  was  obliged  to  go  to  his  house.  I  met  Miss 
Helen,  and  I  am  sure  it  was  her  influence  that  carried 
the  day.  We  sail  on  Monday.  To-day  is  Thursday ;  so 
you  see,  my  dear  Jack,  Buckholme  becomes  an  impossi- 
bility." 

"  Then  I  must  go  alone,"  said  Jack.  After  another 
long  sigh :  "  My  fate  lies  there — I  love  Bertha  Ren- 
ville, and  I  know,  if  an  opportunity  offers,  that  I  shall 
ask  her  to  be  my  wife." 

"  Do  you  leave  early  in  the  morning  ?  "  asked  Victor. 

"  Yes,  by  the  7.30.  I  wish  to  get  there  early,  for  I 
shall  ask  her  to  go  boating  with  me.  There  is  no  place 
like  a  boat  for  propounding  momentous  questions.  No- 
body to  watch  you,  and  only  the  little  fishes  to  overhear 
what  you  say." 

"  Well,  Jack,"  said  Victor,  as  their  hands  met  at 
parting,  "  you  have  my  best  wishes  and  my  sincerest 
hopes  for  your  happiness  and  success  in  life." 

"  The  same  to  you,  old  boy,"  cried  Jack. 

They  spoke  no  more,  but  when  they  stood  by  the  open 
door,  as  though  prompted  by  some  instinct  which  they 
could  not  resist,  they  threw  their  arms  about  each  other 
and  stood  for  a  moment  in  a  brotherly  embrace. 

Victor  ran  swiftly  dowTi  the  stairs  and  walked  home- 
ward so  fast  that  his  fellow  pedestrians  looked  after 
him,  some  with  curiosity  and  others  with  suspicion. 

Jack  threw  himself  into  an  arm-chair,  lighted  his 
pipe,  and  smoked  unremittingly  for  an  hour. 

The  next  morning  he  was  not  surprised  to  find  that  he 
had  gone  to  bed  without  extinguishing  the  gas. 


CHAPTER   IV. 


Jack  De  Vinne,  with  all  the  impatience  of  youth, 
was  at  the  railway  station  half  an  hour  hefore  the  start- 
ing time  of  the  train  which  was  to  bear  him  to  the 
woman  he  loved.  He  walked  impatiently  up  and  down 
the  platform.  Finally,  he  accosted  a  guard.  "  When 
will  the  Reading  train  be  in  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  man.  "  Sometimes  it's 
early,  and  sometimes  it's  late,  and  sometimes  it's  just 
on  time." 

Jack  thanked  the  man  for  the  valuable  information 
and  resumed  his  walk.  His  next  act  was  to  buy  a  morn- 
ing paper  and  tuck  it  beneath  the  straps  of  his  valise. 
T^ever  did  time  pass  so  slowly.  He  was  sure  it  must 
be  half-past  seven,  but  upon  looking  at  his  watch  he 
found  that  he  had  been  in  the  station  only  ten  minutes. 

While  standing  uncertain,  irresolute,  dissatisfied,  a 
hand  was  suddenly  laid  upon  his  shoulder,  and  turning 
quickly,  he  met  the  gaze  of  Victor  Duquesne. 

"  Why,  what  brought  you  here,  old  boy  ? "  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"  A  fool's  errand,  I  suppose  you  will  say,  when  I 
tell  you  what  I  came  for.  I  was  up  early  this  morning, 
and  the  thought  came  to  me  that  I  had  not,  told  you 
to  write  to  me  if  anything  important  occurred.  Send 
the  letter  to  Ajaccio,  Island  of  Corsica,  I  do  not  know 
how  long  we  shall  stay  at  Malta,  but  from  something  I 
heard  Helen  say  to  her  father,  I  think  there  is  some 
reason  for  the  Admiral's  visiting  Corsica  as  soon  aa 
possible  after  his  arrival  in  the  Mediterranean.    I  select 


"  BUCKHOLME."  29 

Ajaccio,  because  the  letter  will  go  direct  by  French, 
post." 

"  Glad  you  told  me,"  said  Jack.  "  I  write  about  two 
letters  a  year,  and  the  chances  are  I  should  have  ad- 
dressed yours  care  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  and 
should  have  expected  it  to  find  you.  I'm  mighty  glad  to 
see  you,  too.  I  feel  as  though  I  had  been  waiting  here 
a  couple  of  hours,"  he  looked  at  his  watch  again,  "  but 
it  has  been  only  fifteen  minutes.  Ah,  here's  the  train 
now.  Well,  good-bye,  old  boy.  Remember  I  am 
always  your  Pylades." 

"  And  I  am  your  Orestes,"  declared  Victor.  "  Per- 
haps the  time  may  come  when  one  or  both  of  us  may  be 
called  upon  to  show  the  depth  of  friendship  that  lies 
in  him." 

Once  more  the  men  shook  hands.  Then  Jack  grasped 
his  luggage,  which  was  of  small  compass,  and  made  his 
way  to  a  seat  in  a  first-class  carriage. 

For  some  time  after  the  train  started.  Jack  sat  pre- 
occupied with  his  thoughts.  The  word  "  thought " 
would  be  more  correct,  for  he  had  but  one,  and  that 
was  of  Bertha  Renville.  How  would  she  receive  him? 
Had  he  been  deceived  by  the  manner  in  which  Clarence 
had  extended  the  invitation  ?  Did  Mr.  Thomas  Glynne 
really  wish  him  to  come  to  Buckholme?  He  framed 
question  after  question  in  his  mind,  but  to  none  could 
he  supply  a  satisfactory  answer.  He  pulled  the 
morning  paper  from  under  the  strap  of  his  valise  and 
looked  listlessly  at  one  page  after  another.  He  was  not 
interested  in  the  Court  Calendar,  for,  beautiful  as  she 
was,  he  could  not  expect  to  find  Bertha's  name  there. 
The  business  and  the  financial  columns  were  passed 
unheeded.  He  started  to  read  an  editorial,  but  after 
glancing  at  the  first  few  lines,  crumpled  the  paper  in  his 
hand  and  looked  out  of  the  window. 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning  and  nature  was  in  her 
fairest  garb.    As  the  train  passed  through  well-kaown, 


80  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

places,  memories  came  back  to  him  of  many  happy  times 
passed  there  with  his  friend  Victor.  But  Jack  was  not 
an  ardent  lover  of  nature,  and  he  soon  turned  again  to 
the  newspaper. 

A  headline  caught  his  eye :  "  Attempted  Robbery 
at  Brixton,  Strange  Death  of  the  Burglar."  The  cap- 
tion was  so  attractive  that  Jack  read  the  article  through : 

"A  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Nason,  widow,  living  on  Oad 
Street,  Brixton,  was  awakened  early  yesterday  morning 
by  the  loud  cackling  of  the  fowls  in  her  hennery,  a 
small  out-building  in  the  rear  of  the  house.  She  lives 
alone,  her  only  protector  being  a  large  mastiff,  which 
she  kept  within-doors  at  night  Upon  hearing  the 
comm/Otion  she  went  to  the  window  and,  peeping  be- 
tween the  curtains,  saw  that  a  man  had  broken  open 
the  door  of  the  hennery,  had  strangled  a  number  of  the 
fowls,  which  lay  upon  the  turf  beside  him,  and  was 
endeavouring  to  secure  others.  She  went  quietly  down- 
stairs, called  to  the  dog  that  was  asleep  in  the  kitchen, 
and  opening  the  side  door,  led  him  into  the  garden.  She 
bolted  the  door  again,  ran  quickly  upstairs,  and  looked 
out  to  see  what  would  take  place. 

"  The  dog,  knowing  what  was  expected  of  him,  ran 
towards  the  man,  with  jaws  distended.  A  terrific  battle 
between  man  and  dog  then  took  place,  the  following  de- 
scription of  which  was  given  to  our  reporter  by  Mrs. 
Nason : 

"  The  man  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  Mrs.  N'ason  saw, 
what  she  had  not  at  first  observed,  that  he  had  with  him 
a  large  umbrella.  As  the  dog  sprang  at  him,  the  man 
grasped  the  umbrella  by  both  ends  and  forced  it, 
laterally,  between  the  dog's  jaws.  True  to  his  nature, 
the  dog  shut  his  teeth  firmly  upon  it.  The  man  was  of 
small  stature,  slight  in  build,  and  was  thrown  to  the 
ground  by  the  impact.  That  fall,  undoubtedly,  saved  his 
life,  for  the  time  being,  at  least,  for  his  hand  came  in 


« BUCKHOLME."  81 

contact  with  a  heavy  oaken  bar  which  had  been  nsed  to 
fasten  the  hennery  door.  While  the  dog  was  busily  en- 
gaged trying  to  disengage  his  teeth  from  the  umbrella, 
into  which  they  had  been  firmly  set,  the  man  sprang  to 
his  feet  and  dealt  the  dog  a  stunning  blow  with  the 
stick.  The  dog  soon  rallied,  however,  and  the  man, 
apparently  fearing  another  attack,  became  frenzied, 
drew  from  his  pocket  a  clasp  knife  with  a  blade  fully 
six  inches  in  length,  and  stabbed  the  animal  viciously 
in  both  eyes.  The  maddened  dog  rose  upon  his  hind 
legs,  preparatory  to  springing  upon  his  assailant,  who 
improved  the  opportunity  to  stab  the  dog  in  the  throat 

"  Mrs.  I^ason  could  bear  the  scene  no  longer  and 
turned  from  the  window.  Recovering  her  self-posses- 
sion, she  looked  again  and  saw  the  man  lying  face  down- 
ward, the  body  of  the  dog  beneath  him. 

"  She  ran  from  the  house  to  that  of  a  neighbour,  a 
Mr.  Abraham  Dowse,  who,  arming  himself  with  a  pitch- 
fork, accompanied  her  to  the  scene  of  the  conflict.  He 
found  that  both  man  and  dog  were  dead.  The  police 
were  then  called. 

"  The  man  was  shabbily  dressed,  had  no  money  upon 
his  person,  and  the  only  means  of  identification  was  a 
letter  addressed  to  Alberto  Cordoni.  The  letter  was 
postmarked  Ajaccio  and  was  more  than  six  months  old. 
It  read  as  follows: 

"  A.  C.  You  have  been  in  London  now  for  more 
than  a  year,  but  to  no  avail.  If  you  had  found  any  trace 
of  Manuel  Delia  Coscia,  I  would  be  willing  to  give  you 
ten  times  what  you  have  already  received ;  but  I  shall 
send  you  no  more  money  until  you  give  me  some  proof 
that  you  are  on  his  track. 

"  The  letter  itself  was  without  date  or  signature. 
The  body  of  the  man,  who  was  apparently  an  Italian 
or  Corsican,  was  taken  in  charge  by  the  police." 

"  What  a  bloodthirsty  set  those  Corsicans  are,"  said 
Jack  to  himself.    "  I  wonder  why  Victor's  father  wants 


32  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

him  to  go  to  that  God-forsaken  country.  When  I  get 
back  to  London  I  will  send  this  paper  to  Victor,"  and 
he  folded  and  replaced  it  beneath  the  straps  of  his 
valise.  < 

The  train  was  now  approaching  Windsor,  the  abode 
of  royalty.  Although  Jack  had  the  blood  of  the  aris- 
tocracy in  his  veins,  he  was  not  interested  in  either 
castle  or  park.    His  thoughts  were  several  miles  beyond. 

There  was  one  place  through  which  he  was  to  pass 
which  one  cannot  visit  unmoved.  Jack  looked  earnestly 
from  the  window.  Yes,  there  it  was,  the  village  church 
of  Stoke  Pogis,  and  close  to  it  the  churchyard  in  which 
Gray  Avrote  his  immortal  Elegy. 

Jack  was  not  a  great  lover  of  poetry,  for,  as  he  had 
expressed  himself,  "  translating  Greek  poetry  into  Eng- 
lish verse  is  enough  to  make  a  man  sick  of  it  for  life." 
But  Victor  had  admired  the  elegy  and  had  read  it  aloud 
several  times  to  Jack,  who  now  recalled  one  of  the 
stanzas : 

•'  Pull  many  a  gem  of  purest  ray  serene 

The  dark,  unfathomed  caves  of  ocean  bear; 
Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen. 
And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air." 

It  is  strange  what  unexpected  comparisons  lovers 
will  make.  He  did  not  think  of  Bertha  as  being  a  gem 
in  some  ocean  cave,  but  the  thought  did  occur  to  him 
that  it  was  not  just  the  thing  for  so  beautiful  a  girl  to 
lived  unnoticed  in  the  little  town  of  Maidenhead  when  the 
frequenters  of  London  drawing-rooms  would  have  gone 
wild  over  her  and  where  she  would  be  the  belle  of  the 
season.  Then  the  thought  came  to  him  that  he  did  not 
wish  her  to  be  the  belle  of  the  season ;  he  wished  her  to 
be  his,  his  only,  thus  adding  another  proof  to  the  adage 
that  true  love  is  selfish,  which  selfishness,  carried  to 
extremes,  becomes  the  green-eyed  monster,  jealousy. 

Jack  leaned  back  in  his  seat  and  began  wondering 
.what  his  future  would  be.     His  life  could  not  fail  to 


« BUCKHOLME."  33 

be  happy  if  Bertha  promised  to  be  his  wife.  Should  he 
become  a  statesman,  as  had  his  father,  or — but  he 
would  not  think  of  that  now. 

He  could  see  the  great  stone  bridge  which  spans  the 
Thames  at  Maidenhead,  forming  a  means  of  communi- 
cation between  the  County  of  Berkshire  and  that  of 
Buckingham.  Then  he  remembered  that  he  had  read 
of  the  old  wooden  bridge  which  spanned  the  river,  and 
how  the  Duke  of  Surrey  and  the  followers  of  Richard 
II.  had  at  that  bridge  held  the  soldiers  of  Henry  IV. 
at  bay  for  hours,  and  then  made  a  safe  retreat. 

They  were  nearing  the  station.  Jack's  heart  gave 
a  great  jump.  Yes,  that  was  the  plae«  where  Miss  Ren- 
ville's boat  had  been  run  down  and  capsized,  and  there 
she  would  have  met  her  death  had  it  not  been  for — yes, 
Fate  must  have  willed  that  he  should  be  there  in  time  to 
save  her. 

Mr.  Thomas  Glynne,  who,  with  his  son,  Clarence, 
a  young  man  of  twenty-four,  formed  the  firm  known  in 
the  city  as  Walmonth  &  Company,  iron  and  steel  mer- 
chants, was  a  short,  thick-set  man,  with  a  round  face 
and  an  expression  of  the  utmost  geniality.  While  busi- 
ness manager  for  Walmonth  &  Company  he  had  lived, 
as  he  expressed  it,  "  in  smoky,  dirty  London,"  but  after 
becoming  head  of  the  firm,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  have 
a  country  residence.  He  had  looked  Xorth,  South,  East, 
and  West  before  fixing  upon  a  location,  and  finally  de- 
cided to  make  his  home  in  the  little  town  of  Maidenhead, 
the  scenery  surrounding  which  is  picturesque  and  beau- 
tiful. Here  he  built  a  house  of  the  conventional  type, 
to  which  he  had  given  the  name  of  "  Buckholme."  Had 
he  been  asked  why  he  had  thus  named  it,  he  probably 
would  have  replied :  "  Do  you  know  anybody  who  has  a 
house  with  that  name  ?  " 

Some  fourteen  years  before,  when  Mr.  Glynne  was 
about  forty,  the  house  of  Walmonth  &  Company  was  in 
financial  straits.     Mr.  Gl^Tine,  who  had  gone  to  Paris 


34  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

on  business  connected  with  the  firm,  was  suddenly  re- 
called by  an  urgent  telegram,  and  on  his  return  to  Lon- 
don, the  senior  member  of  the  house,  Mr.  Jonas  Wal- 
month,  informed  him  that  the  firm  was  unable  to  meet 
its  obligations  and  would  be  forced  to  assign.  This  ac- 
tion was  averted,  however,  for  by  some  means,  unknowTi 
to  Mr.  Jonas  Walmonth  and  his  brother  Ezra,  Mr. 
Glynne  raised  sufficient  money  to  pay  the  outstanding 
liabilities  and  thus  secured  a  controlling  interest  in  the 
firm.  The  two  Walmonth  brothers  were  old  bachelors, 
and  two  years  after  Mr.  Glynne  became  the  "  Co.," 
Ezra  died  suddenly  of  heart  disease,  while  Jonas, 
broken  in  body  and  mind,  was  sent  to  a  sanatorium 
from  which  he  never  emerged.  No  heirs  came  to  claimi 
the  third  interest  belonging  to  the  Walmonth  brothers, 
and  Mr.  Glynne  did  not  trke  special  pains  to  find  any. 
When  his  son  Clarence  became  of  age  he  was  taken  into 
the  firm.  He  showed  great  aptitude  for  the  business, 
and  during  the  past  year  the  senior  partner  had  made 
few  visits  to  the  city.  "  What's  the  use  ?  "  he  said. 
"  I  have  been  in  the  traces  for  more  than  thirty  years ; 
the  business  runs  itself,  and  all  that  Clarence  has  to 
do  is  to  fill  orders  and  collect  bills.  Besides,  I  see  him 
once  a  week,  and  if  he  wants  my  advice,  I  am  always 
ready  to  give  it" 

Thomas  Glynne  had  two  passions;  one  was  his  love 
of  flowers,  and  the  other,  the  greater  one,  his  love  of 
money.  Amply  favoured  as  to  the  latter,  he  found 
great  enjoyment  in  gratifying  his  love  for  floriculture. 
Visitors  came  from  far  and  near  to  view  the  beautiful 
plants  in  his  greenhouses  and  conservatory.  It  was  a 
mystery  to  his  associates  in  the  trade  as  to  how  he  had 
become  possessed  of  enough  money  to  buy  out  the  Wal- 
month Brothers,  build  his  beautiful  house,  and  spend 
such  extravagant  sums  for  orchids  and  other  rare 
plants. 

It  was  no  mystery  to  Mr.  Thomas  Glynne.    He  could 


"  BUCKHOLME."  86 

have  told  them,  had  he  wished,  that  when  in  Paris,  at 
the  time  the  urgent  telegram  was  sent  him  by  his  em- 
ployers, he  had  met  with  a  most  wonderful  experience. 

An  English  gentleman  named  Oscar  Renville  was 
engaged  in  the  iron  and  steel  business  in  Paris,  and  it 
was  with  him  that  Mr.  Glynne,  representing  the  Wal- 
month  Brothers,  transacted  a  very  large  business  and 
with  whom  he  was  on  most  intimate  terms  of  friend- 
ship. Mr.  Renville  was  a  widower,  as  was  Mr.  Glynne, 
for  both  had  lost  their  wives  a  few  years  after  marriage. 
Mr.  Renville  had  one  child,  a  beautiful  little  girl 
named  Bertha. 

One  afternoon  Mr.  Glynne  had  gone  to  Mr.  Ren- 
ville's office  on  business,  and  found  the  establishment  in 
a  state  of  great  excitement.  Mr.  Renville  had  been 
stricken  with  apoplexy,  and  the  clerks  were  debating 
what  they  should  do,  at  the  time  of  Mr.  Glynne's  ar- 
rival. There  was  nothing  undecided  about  Mr.  Glynne. 
Mr.  Renville  was  placed  in  a  carriage  and  Mr.  Glynne 
accompanied  him  home;  nor  did  he  leave  his  friend 
imtil  he  saw  his  body  placed  at  rest  in  P^re  la  Chaise. 

Shortly  before  his  death,  Mr.  Renville  had  made  and 
signed  a  will  by  which  Mr.  Thomas  Glynne  was  con- 
stituted the  guardian  of  his  only  child  and  heiress,  and 
given  full  control  of  her  property  until  the  time  of  her 
marriage. 

Had  Mr.  Glynne's  associates  in  trade  known  this 
fact,  it  would,  probably,  have  relieved  the  feeling  of 
wonderment  they  entertained  concerning  his  financial 
transactions. 

It  also  evidences  the  fact  that  Mr.  Glynne  had  no 
difficulty  in  satisfying  his  passion  for  flowers.  He, 
however,  did  have  some  difficulty,  or  feared  that  he 
might  have,  in  satisfying  his  love  for  money. 

He  knew  that  he  was  in  undisputed  possession  of 
Bertha's  fortune,  which  amounted  to  about  £40,000, 
But  what  was  he  to  do  when  Bertha  married  and  he 


36  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

was  obliged  to  transfer  the  fortune  to  its  rightful 
owner  ?  There  was  one  point  in  his  favour,  and  a  great 
one.  ^N^either  Bertha  nor  any  one  else  knew  that  she  had 
a  fortune;  but  the  fact  might  come  out  at  some  time 
or  other,  and  Thomas  Glynne,  being  a  bad  man  at  heart, 
was  in  wholesome  fear  of  the  law,  which  he  knew  dealt 
rigorously  with  those  who  betrayed  a  trust  such  as  he 
had  accepted. 

He  had  formed  three  plans  which  would  enable  him 
to  keep  the  money  under  his  control.  The  first  was  to 
bring  about  a  marriage  between  Bertha  and  his  son 
Clarence.  The  second  plan,  in  case  the  first  proved 
impossible,  was  to  prevent  her  marrying  any  one  else. 
The  third  plan,  if  she  persisted  in  forming  a  matri- 
monial alliance,  was  to  keep  possession  of  the  property 
in  some  other  way,  and  Mr.  Glynne  had  not  decided  in 
his  own  mind  just  what  that  "  other  way  "  might  be. 
"  It  would  depend  upon  circumstances,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. 

Jack  De  Vinne  thought  Bertha  Renville  was  beauti- 
ful, and  she  was,  judged  by  the  English  standard.  She 
was  tall  and  lithe,  perfect  in  form ;  with  glossy  hair  of 
a  golden  tint;  blue  eyes;  cheeks  with  a  touch  of  pink 
that  enhanced  their  whiteness,  and  a  Cupid's  bow  of  a 
mouth,  which  was  usually  the  home  of  a  bewitch- 
ing smile.  Such  a  woman  as  men  become  heroes  for; 
such  a  woman,  for  love  of  whom,  men  have  died  in 
misery. 

When  the  train  drew  up  at  the  little  station,  Jack  at 
once  caught  sight  of  Clarence's  smiling  face,  and  a  mo- 
ment later  he  was  the  recipient  of  a  hearty  greeting. 

"  I  do  not  usually  come  dovm  until  Saturday,"  said 
Clarence,  "but  as  I  had  invited  you  to  become  our 
guest,  I  arranged  matters  in  the  City  so  that  I  can  stay 
with  you  until  Monday." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Jack.  "  I  am  rather 
bashful,  you  know,  Mr.  Glynne,  and  I'm  afraid  if  you 


« BUCKHOLME."  37 

had  not  been  here  I  should  have  felt  like — ^like — a  cat 
in  a  strange  garret,  you  know." 

"  That's  a  very  good  simile,"  remarked  Clarence. 
"  By  comparing  yourself  to  a  cat,  I  suppose  you  are 
looking  for  a  mouse." 

Jack  smiled.  What  did  the  young  man  mean? 
Although  he  did  not  speak  outright,  his  looks  and  words 
seemed  to  indicate  that  he  thought  Jack  was  interested 
in  Miss  Renville,  and  Jack  had  told  Victor  some  things 
which  led  him  to  think  that  the  young  lady  was  more 
interested  in  his  visit  than  either  the  young  man  or  his 
father. 

The  night  before  Jack's  arrival  at  Buckholme,  Mr. 
Thomas  Glynne  had  informed  his  son  that  he  wished  to 
have  a  talk  with  him  in  the  library  after  dinner. 

Clarence  had  entered  the  apartment  smoking  a  cigar- 
ette. His  father  was  sitting  at  a  beautifully  carved 
and  finely  inlaid  table. 

"  Throw  that  horrible-smelling  thing  away,  Clarence. 
You  know  I  detest  cigarettes." 

"  I  know  you  do,"  said  Clarence,  "  but  I  like  them. 
I  never  smoke  during  business  hours  and  only  one  or 
two  after  dinner.  I  know  it  is  a  vice,  but  it  is  a  mild 
one,  and  everybody  is  cognisant  of  it.  There  are  men 
who  have  greater  vices,  but  they  conceal  them  from  the 
public  gaze.  To  oblige  you,  however,  I  will  forego  the 
pleasure  it  gives  me,"  and  he  threw  it  into  the  fire- 
place. 

The  father  lost  no  time  in  bringing  the  subject  he 
had  in  mind  to  his  son's  attention. 

"  You  know  I  am  a  business  man,  Clarence,  and 
what  I've  got  to  say  I  say  right  out  I  have  said  it 
before  and  to-night  I  am  going  to  say  it  again.  I  want 
you  to  marry  Bertha  Renville." 

"  There  are  only  two  objections  to  such  a  course," 
said  Clarence,  coolly.     "  In  the  first  place,  I  do  not 


38  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

love  her,  and  in  the  secqpd  place  I  am  sure  she  would 
not  have  me  if  I  did." 

"  You  love  money,  don't  you  ? "  asked  the  father, 
eharply. 

"  Xot  for  itself,"  said  Clarence.  "  I  have  no 
miserly  instincts  of  which  I  am  aware.  I  will  ac- 
knowledge, however,  that  I  love  what  money  will  buy." 

"  Supposing  I  told  you,"  said  the  father,  "  that  this 
marriage  was  absolutely  necessary  for  financial  reasons ; 
that  the  firm  was  so  deeply  involved  that  it  must  assign 
unless  more  capital  is  secured  at  once ;  what  would  you 
say  to  that  ?  " 

Clarence  smiled  grimly,  and  there  was  a  sarcastic 
turn  to  his  lip  as  he  replied :  "  Well,  father,  to  speak 
honestly,  I  should  think  you  had  been  reading  some 
popular  novel,  and  had  learned  that  portion  of  it  by 
heart  which  you  have  just  now  repeated.  I  am  led  to 
think  this  to  be  the  case  because  the  house  of  Walmonth 
Brothers,  of  which  I  have  the  honour  to  be  the  junior 
partner,  has  ten  thousand  pounds  in  the  bank,  with  fully 
twenty  thousand  pounds  in  bills  receivable,  and  no  large 
bills  payable.  So  you  see,  father,  the  extract  from  the 
popular  novel  is  not  applicable  to  our  case  at  all." 

Thomas  Glynne  arose  from  his  chair,  clasped  his 
hands  behind  his  back,  a  favourite  position  of  his,  and 
walked  up  and  down  for  some  time  without  speaking. 
Then  he  opened  the  door  of  one  of  the  bookcases  and 
took  down  a  volume  which  showed  marks  of  great  usage. 
He  approached  his  son  and  said,  solemnly : 

"  Clarence,  this  is  your  mother's  Bible.  I  am  going 
to  tell  you  something,  but  you  must  swear  on  this  book 
that  you  will  keep  what  I  am  going  to  say  to  you  a 
secret  as  long  as  I  wish  you  to." 

"  I  dislike  secrets,"  said  Clarence,  "  and  I  do  not 
like  to  take  an  oath.  I  will  promise  not  to  mention 
what  you  say  to  me,  and  with  me  such  a  promise  is  as 
binding  and  aacred  as  an  oath." 


"  BUCKHOLME."  99 

Mr.  Glynne  laid  the  book  on  the  table.  "  Well,  I 
believe  you,  Clarence,  but  remember,  I  look  upon  your 
promise  as  though  it  had  been  an  oath."  Then  after  a 
pause,  "  Did  I  ever  tell  you  that  my  ward,  Bertha  Ren- 
ville, is  a  rich  woman  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,"  said  Clarence.  "  You  have  never 
treated  her  as  though  she  was.  Her  allowance  has 
been  quite  moderate  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  have  given 
her  considerable  money  myself  when  I  knew  that  she 
wished  certain  things,  and  told  me  that  she  could  not 
afford  to  buy  them,  ^o,  I  never  had  any  idea  that  she 
was  a  rich  woman.  I  always  supposed  that  her  father 
was  a  poor  man,  but  your  friend,  and  that  you,  with 
your  well-known  kindness  of  heart,  had  provided  for 
her  out  of  your  own  bounty." 

"  Well,"  said  ^fr.  Glynne,  "  I  am  glad  that  has  been 
your  opinion,  and  I  mean  that  the  rest  of  the  world 
shall  continue  to  think  so.  Now,  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
the  truth.  The  money  with  which  I  bought  out  the 
firm  of  Walmonth  Brothers — ^the  money  with  which  I 
built  this  house — in  fact  all  the  money  I  have  used  to 
satisfy  my,  as  you  know,  fastidious  tastes,  in  reality 
belongs  to  Miss  Renville.  By  the  terms  of  her  father's 
will,  when  she  marries,  I  must  turn  over  the  property, 
with  accrued  interest,  to  her,  and,  of  course,  to  her  hus- 
band. I^ow,  let  me  ask  you  the  question  I  asked  when 
you  first  came  in:  Will  you  marry  her  and  keep  this 
money  in  the  family,  or  will  you  refuse  to  do  so  and 
lose  everything — business,  house " 

"  Well,"  said  Clarence,  "  it  seems  rather  a  hard  box 
to  put  a  fellow  in,  but  supposing  she  wants  to  marry 
somebody  else  ?  " 

The  father  began  to  show  signs  of  anger.  The 
genial  smile  had  vanished.  "  That's  not  your  busi- 
ness, young  man.  If  she  doesn't  marry  you,  she  shan't 
marry  anybody  else ;  I'll  look  out  for  that." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Clarence,  "  let  us  leave  her  out  of 


40  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

the  question  and  I  will  answer  for  myself.  I  am  young 
and  can  work.  I  am  sorry  for  you,  for  you  are  getting 
old  and  it  may  come  hard  on  you ;  but  my  mind  is  made 
up.  I  do  not  love  Bertha  Renville,  and  whatever  the 
result  may  be  I  won't  marry  her." 

The  usually  genial  Mr.  Thomas  Glynne  became  livid 
with  rage.  "  We  shall  see  about  that,  young  man. 
You  shall  go  out  of  the  firm.  I  will  close  up  the  busi- 
ness. You  are  an  ungrateful  cub.  I  made  life  easy 
for  you;  now  go  out  into  the  world  and  find  out  how 
hard  it  is  to  do  anything  for  yourself." 

"  That's  what  I  said  I  was  willing  to  do,"  said 
Clarence.  "  But  you  won't  drive  me  out  of  the  firm, 
nor  you  won't  close  up  the  business." 

The  young  man  arose  to  his  feet  and  father  and 
son  stood  glaring  at  each  other  like  two  wild  ani- 
mals. 

"Oh,  I  won't,  won't  I?"  snarled  Mr.  Glynne. 
"  How  will  you  keep  me  from  doing  it  ?  " 

"  Your  own  good  sense  will  keep  you  from  doing  it, 
father,"  said  the  young  man,  cooling  down  a  little.  "  If 
you  will  keep  still,  I  will  do  the  same.  There  is  no 
exigency,  as  I  see,  until  there  is  some  danger  of  her 
getting  married;  but  if  you  take  any  steps  to  get  me 
out  of  the  firm,  or  to  wind  up  the  business,  I  shall  tell 
Bertha." 

"  But  you  promised  you  would  not." 

"  I  know  I  did,"  said  Clarence,  "  but  there  is  an  old 
saying  that  a  bad  promise  is  better  broken  than  kept. 
If  you  have  told  me  the  truth,  you  are  entitled  to  in- 
vest her  money  and  to  look  after  it  until  her  marriage. 
When  that  time  comes  you  have  either  got  to  restore  the 
property  to  its  rightful  owner  or  keep  it  yourself  and 
become  a  criminal  in  the  eyes  of  the  law.  In  that  case, 
I  shall  be  sorry  that  my  name  is  Glynne.  I  hope  this 
very  uncomfortable  and  unpleasant  interview  is  at  an 
end.    Hay  I  be  allowed  to  light  another  cigarette  ?    My 


"  BUCKHOLME."  41 

nerves  are  a  trifle  shaken  by  this  unexpected  dis- 
closure." 

The  young  man  suited  the  action  to  the  word,  blew  a 
puff  of  smoke,  and  then  said ;  "  I  suppose  this  is  all, 
father.  Good-night.  I  will  keep  your  secret  as  long 
as  you  respect  my  rights." 

When  his  son  had  gone,  Thomas  Glynne  clenched  his 
fists  and  stamped  his  foot  upon  the  library  floor,  but 
the  rich  Wilton  was  thick  and  gave  forth  no  sound. 

"  Clarence  is  a  fool.  But  she  shall  not  marry  any 
one  else.  If  she  dies,  all  will  be  mine.  I  am  sorry  I 
told  him,  but  I  trust  it  will  bring  him  to  terms.  If  he 
did  not  know  it,  no  one  would  be  the  wiser." 


CHAPTEK   V. 

THE   EAEL    OF    NOXTON, 

Satueday  morning  was  cloudy. 

"  I  am  so  glad  the  sun  is  not  shining  to-day,"  re- 
marked Jack,  as  the  little  party  took  their  seats  at  the 
breakfast  table. 

"  Why  so  ?  "  asked  Bertha,  and  she  cast  an  inquiring 
glance  at  the  speaker. 

"  Because  it  will  be  so  much  better  for  fishing,  and  I 
never  like  to  fish  unless  I  catch  something." 

"  I  see,"  remarked  Bertha,  "  you  are  a  practical 
angler,  not  a  political  one." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Jack.  "  I  remember  reading  some- 
where the  definition  of  a  person  who  fishes  for  com- 
pliments." 

"  The  answer  to  that  must  be  a  joke,"  said  Clarence. 

Jack  laughed.  "  Something  near.  I  think  it  was 
this :  A  man  who  fishes  for  compliments  is  one  who  uses 
himself  for  bait." 

At  this  they  laughed,  Mr.  Thomas  Glynne  the  loud- 
est of  them  all. 

After  breakfast  Bertha  said :  "  You  must  come  with 
me,  Mr.  De  Vinne,  and  see  Guardy's  beautiful  flowers. 
They  say  he  has  the  finest  greenhouses  and  the  most 
beautiful  conservatory  in  this  part  of  England — some 
say,  in  all  England." 

As  they  entered  the  conservatory,  Bertha  turned 
towards  Jack  and  remarked :  "  I  am  sorry  I  cannot 
agree  with  you,  Mr.  De  Vinne,  but  I  wish  very  much 
that  the  sun  was  shining.    Flowers  never  look  so  beauti- 

42 


THE  EARL  OF  NOXTON.  43 

ful  as  when  the  sun  falls  upon  them.  They  are  always 
beautiful,  but  the  sunlight  makes  them  more  so." 

They  were  alone  and  Jack  grew  venturesome. 

"  There  is  something  else  that  the  sun  has  the  same 
effect  upon,"  he  remarked. 

"  Why,  what  can  that  be  ?  " 

"  A  pretty  girl,"  answered  Jack,  with  a  laugh. 
"  Especially  if  she  has  " — he  hesitated,  but  decided 
to  finish  his  speech — "  especially  if  she  has  golden 
hair." 

Bertha  avoided  the  compliment.  "  I  have  heard  that 
it  is  still  more  effective  when  it  falls  upon  a  certain 
shade  of  red." 

"  That  may  be  so,"  said  Jack,  "  but  my  acquaintance 
is  rather  limited  and  I  must  confess  I  never  knew  a 
young  lady  with  red  hair." 

They  walked  about.  Bertha  extolling  the  beauty  of 
the  flowers  and  calling  many  of  them  by  name. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  love  flowers  as  I  do,  Mr.  De 
Vinne." 

"  I  will  be  honest.  Miss  Renville,  I  prefer  fish. 
Xow,  could  I  induce  you  to  come  with  me  on  the  river 
this  morning  ?  " 

"  I  am  no  great  lover  of  Father  Thames,"  she  re- 
plied. "  I  have  been  in  his  embrace  once  and  it  was 
not  very  pleasant." 

"  They  say  lightning  never  strikes  twice  in  the  same 
place,"  remarked  Jack,  "  and  I  don't  think  you  are  in 
any  danger  of  falling  overboard  again.  If  you  refuse 
I  shall  consider  it  as  a  personal  reflection  upon  my 
ability  as  a  sailor." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  De  Vinne,  you  must  not  think  that  I 
meant  such  a  thing.  It  is  no  lack  of  confidence  in  you ; 
it  is  the  other  fellow  who  doesn't  know  how  to  manage 
a  boat  that  I'm  afraid  of.  I  am  a  pretty  good  sailor 
myself,  and  I  could  have  swum  ashore  that  day  had  I 
not  been  encumbered  with  my  dress.     .Women  are  at  a 


44  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

great  disadvantage,  on  account  of  their  dress,  in  all 
sports  and  games." 

"  Well,"  said  Jack,  "  if  you  object  to  a  voyage  on  the 
briny  deep,  what  do  you  say  to  a  land  trip  ?  I  have  no 
doubt  Mr.  Glynne  has  a  turnout  in  his  stable.  Do  you 
know  I  am  a  great  admirer  of  the  poet  Gray?  You 
know  he  is  buried  at  Stoke  Pogis,  not  very  far  from 
here.  I  should  be  delighted  to  go  there,  and  it  will  add 
greatly  to  ray  pleasure  if  you  will  accompany  me." 

Bertha  smiled  archly.  "  I  have  heard  that  sailors 
make  very  poor  landsmen  and  know  very  little  about 
horses." 

"  Oh,  now,  you're  joking  me,  Miss  Renville."  A 
cloud  passed  over  his  face  and  his  voice  grew  grave. 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  De  Vinne,  I  have  to  supply  the 
fun  for  the  family.  Perhaps  my  familiarity  with  those 
whom  I  meet  every  day  has  led  me  to  be  wanting  in  the 
respect  due  to  a  stranger." 

"  How  can  you  call  me  a  stranger  ?  "  cried  Jack. 

"  Well,  now,"  cried  Bertha,  "  I  see  that  I  am  making 
a  mess  of  it.  So  we  had  better  stop  just  where  we  are. 
You  have  asked  me  to  go  to  drive  with  you.  I  accept 
your  invitation  with  pleasure." 

When  they  arrived  at  Stoke  Pogis,  Jack  tied  the 
horse  to  a  convenient  hitching-post  and  they  went  into 
the  secluded  churchyard. 

As  they  stood  by  the  tomb  of  the  poet's  mother,  Jack 
read  aloud  the  inscription  upon  it. 

"  He  must  have  loved  his  mother  devotedly,"  said 
Bertha. 

"  All  really  good  men  love  their  mothers,"  said 
Jack.  "  To  me  my  mother  is  the  dearest  creature  in 
the  world."  Then  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  he 
had  made  two  unfortunate  admissions.  By  implica- 
tion he  had  given  his  hearer  to  understand  that  he  was 
a  really  good  man,  and  in  the  second  case  he  had  told 


THE  EARL  OF  NOXTON.  46 

her  that  he  loved  his  mother  better  than  any  person 
else.  "  What  a  blundering  fool  I  have  been,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "  The  old  Greek  was  right  when  he  wrote 
that  silence  is  the  greatest  of  all  virtues." 

He  had  been  very  brave  while  sitting  in  Victor's 
room,  when  he  had  declared  his  fixed  purpose  to  propose 
to  Miss  Renville  at  sight,  but  as  he  gazed  into  her 
beautiful  face  his  courage  left  him. 

Miss  Renville,  fortunately,  changed  the  subject. 
"  My  mother  died  when  I  was  very  young,  and  I  was 
but  six  years  old  when  I  lost  my  father,  but  Guardy  has 
been  very  good  to  me.  If  my  parents  had  lived  longer, 
I  should  have  felt  their  loss  much  more  than  I  have. 
Is  your  father  living,  Mr.  De  Vinne  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Jack.  "  He  is  hale  and  hearty. 
They  used  to  say  that  there  was  no  stronger,  sturdier 
man  in  the  House  of  Lords." 

"  Wliat  ?  "  cried  Bertha,  with  astonishment.  "  Is 
your  father  a  peer  ?  " 

"  Why,  didn't  you  know  ?  "  asked  Jack.  "  I  im- 
agined Clarence  must  have  told  you.  My  father  is  the 
Earl  of  Noxton.  My  home  is  at  Noxton  Hall  in  Sur- 
rey." 

Bertha  turned  her  face  away. 

"  Why,  Miss  Renville,  are  you  sorry  that  I  am  the 
son  of  an  earl?  It  does  not  amount  to  much  in  my 
case,  for  I  am  only  a  second  son.  My  brother  Carolus 
is  the  heir  to  the  title  and  estates.  You  know  there  is 
nothing  for  second  sons  to  do  in  England  but  to  go  into 
the  Army  or  ^N'avy  or  to  enter  the  Church.  I  expect  to 
be  ordered  on  a  cruise  very  shortly." 

"  I  should  not  like  that,"  said  Bertha.  "  If  I  were  a 
young  man,  I  should  look  forward  to  a  happy  home 
life." 

"  So  do  I,  one  of  these  days,"  said  Jack,  "  There 
may  be  a  war  and  I  may  come  home  covered  with  glory, 
and   perhaps   Parliament   will   give   me   a   pension." 


46  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Then  he  reflected  that  he  had  made  another  blunder. 
How  could  he  ask  the  beautiful  being  who  stood  beside 
him  to  become  his  wife  when  he,  of  his  ovm  accord,  had 
said  that  such  happiness  could  only  come  to  him  in  the, 
perhaps,  far  distant  future.  A  thought  came  to  him 
suddenly  that  sent  a  cold  chill  through  his  frame.  How 
near  he  had  come  to  trespassing  on  his  friend's  hospi- 
tality. What  right  had  he  to  ask  Miss  Renville 
to  become  his  wife  until  he  had  spoken  to  her  guardian 
on  the  subject?  'No,  he  must  drop  the  whole  matter 
just  where  it  was  until  he  had  obtained  an  interview 
with  Mr.  Glynne,  Sr. 

The  opportunity  came  to  him  that  evening,  for  his 
host  invited  him  into  the  library  to  inspect  the  fine 
editions  of  rare  books  with  which  the  shelves  were 
filled. 

While  examining  the  flowers  in  the  conservatory. 
Jack  had  kept  his  eyes  fixed,  most  of  the  time,  upon 
Miss  Renville,  but  in  the  library  he  devoted  his  atten- 
tion to  the  fine  bindings  and  beautiful  illustrations 
rather  than  to  his  companion. 

"  I  suppose  you  smoke,"  said  Mr.  Glynne.  "  I  do 
not,  and  I  have  made  it  an  inflexible  rule  not  to  allow 
smoking  in  this  room,  but  when  you  join  my  son 
Clarence  in  the  billiard  room,  you  will  have  all  the  op- 
portunity you  desire  to  indulge  in  your  love  of  tobacco." 

"  All  the  boys  at  the  Academy  smoked,"  said  Jack, 
"  and  I  fell  into  it  with  the  rest  of  them." 

"  The  late  Mrs.  Glynne  abhorred  smoking,"  said  his 
host,  "  and  I  felt  that  I  should  be  untrue  to  her  memory 
if  I  should  take  up  the  habit  now.  Clarence  has  the 
most  reprehensible  habit  of  smoking  cigarettes.  I  am 
not  so  averse  to  the  odour  of  good  tobacco,  but  I  think 
the  odour  of  burnt  paper  is  positively  vile." 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  said  Jack.  "  When  I  smoke  I 
fill  my  pipe  and  make  a  business  of  it." 

"  Well,  my  advice  to  you,  Mr.  De  Vinne,  is  to  give 


THE  EARL  OF  NOXTON.  47 

up  the  Habit  before  it  becomes  too  firmly  fixed  upon  you. 
You  will  be  getting  married  one  of  these  days.  Per- 
haps your  wife  may  not  object  openly  to  your  smoking, 
but  secretly  she  will  wish  you  did  not." 

Jack  felt  that  Mr.  Glynne  had  broken  the  ice  for 
him.  "  If  I  can  get  the  girl  I  wish  for  my  wife,"  he 
said,  "  I  will  throw  my  pipe  into  the  river  and  the 
tobacco  after  it." 

There  was  a  broad  smile  upon  Mr.  Glynne's  face. 
"  Then  you  have  not  asked  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Jack,  "  there  was  a  preliminary  step 
that  must  come  first." 

"  And  when  will  that  be  taken  ?  " 

"  I  think  now  is  a  good  time,"  said  Jack,  in  a  non- 
chalant way.  "  The  fact  is,  Mr.  Glynne,  I  have  fallen 
deeply  in  love  with  your  ward.  Miss  Renville." 

Mr.  Glynne  recoiled  and  would  have  measured  his 
length  on  the  floor  if  Jack  had  not  sprung  forward  and 
prevented. 

"  I  must  have  caught  my  boot-heel  in  the  rug,"  said 
Mr.  Glynne,  as  he  recovered  his  physical  equilibrium; 
his  mental  equilibrium,  though,  was  greatly  out  of  joint. 
"  Mr.  De  Vinne,"  he  began,  "  I  am  really  surprised  at 
what  you  say.  Take  it  altogether,  you  have  not  known 
the  young  lady  more  than  forty-eight  hours.  Of  course, 
under  tlie  circumstances  of  your  first  meeting,  it  is  but 
natural  that  you  should  feel  an  interest  in  her,  for  she 
is  really  a  very  beautiful  girl." 

"  She  is  an  angel,"  ejaculated  Jack,  fervently. 

"  You  have  done  very  wisely,  Mr.  De  Vinne,  in 
speaking  to  me  about  this  before  revealing  the  state  of 
your  feelings  to  Miss  Renville,  and  I  would  advise  you 
not  to  mention  the  subject  to  her  until  after  you  have 
spoken  to  your  father,  the  Earl.  You  should  know  the 
truth  of  the  matter.  Miss  Renville  is  beautiful,  but 
she  is  poor ;  in  fact,  she  is  a  dependent  upon  my  bounty. 
I  do  not  grudge  it  to  her,  for  her  father  and  I  were  the 


48  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

best  of  friends,  and  on  his  death-bed  I  promised  him 
that  I  would  treat  her  as  though  she  were  my  own 
daughter." 

"  That  was  noble  of  you,"  cried  Jack,  and  before  Mr. 
Glynne  could  object  the  young  man  grasped  his  hand 
and  shook  it  warmly. 

"  I  do  not  ask  any  praise  for  my  action,"  said  Mr. 
Glynne.  "  Bertha  is  the  light  of  our  household,  and  I 
shall  miss  her  greatly  when  the  time  comes,  if  it  ever 
does,  for  her  to  go  from  us.  I  will  tell  you  a  little 
secret,  but  you  must  not  mention  it  to  my  son.  I  had 
hoped  in  my  heart  that  Clarence  and  Bertha  would  fall 
in  love  with  each  other  and  in  that  way  I  should  be  in 
no  danger  of  losing  her;  but  some  young  men  are  as 
fickle  as  women,  and  my  son  does  not  seem  to  know  his 
own  heart"  He  was  going  to  say  "  what  is  best  for 
him,"  but  changed  the  form  of  the  remark  just  in  time. 

"  I  do  not  blame  you  for  not  wishing  to  lose  her," 
said  Jack. 

"  I  think  Clarence  must  be  waiting  for  you  in  the 
billiard  room,"  suggested  Mr.  Glynne,  "  but  before  you 
go,  Mr.  De  Vinne — as  I  stand  in  the  relation  of  a  father 
to  Miss  Renville — I  wish  you  would  give  me  your  prom- 
ise not  to  make  any  direct  proposal  to  my  ward  until 
you  have  talked  the  matter  over  with  your  father." 

When  Jack  joined  Clarence  in  the  billiard  room,  the 
latter  exclaimed :  "  Where  have  you  been,  old  boy  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  having  a  talk  with  your  father." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Clarence.  "  He  has  been  showing 
you  the  beautiful  pictures  in  his  library,  I  suppose. 
Well,  he  hung  on  to  you  longer  than  he  could  have  hung 
on  to  me." 

"  Mr.  Glynne,"  said  Jack,  "  I  have  known  you  but  a 
short  time,  but  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question." 

"  Go  ahead,  old  fellow.  If  I  can't  answer  it,  I'll  keep 
still." 

"  It  is  a  serious  matter,"  said  Jack.     "  You  may 


THE  EARL  OF  NOXTON.  49 

think  the  inquiry  is  an  impertinent  one  and  refuse  to 
answer  for  that  reason." 

"  Well,"  said  Clarence,  "  as  you  stand  about  four 
inches  taller  than  I  do,  and  weigh  about  forty  pounds 
more,  I  don't  think  I  shall  resort  to  personal  violence 
even  if  my  feelings  are  injured." 

"  Well,"  said  Jack,  "  I  think  we  understand  each 
other,  so  I  will  ask  you  the  question  in  the  bluntest 
possible  way.  Are  you  in  love  with  Miss  Renville,  or 
are  you  likely  to  be,  and  is  it  probable  that  you  will 
ever  ask  her  to  become  your  wife  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Clarence,  with  a  laugh,  "  that's  not 
one  question,  that's  three,  but  fortunately  I  can  answer 
all  with  one  little  word — No.  Now,  Mr.  De  Vinne, 
will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you  a  question  ?  " 

"  Why,  certainly,"  said  Jack,  whose  face  showed  that 
Clarence's  reply  to  his  question  had  greatly  pleased  him. 

"  Well,"  began  Clarence,  "  Mr.  Jack  De  Vinne, 
I  would  like  to  ask  you  if  you  are  in  love  with  Miss 
Renville,  or  if  not,  are  you  likely  to  be,  and  is  there 
any  probability  of  your  ever  asking  her  to  become  your 
wife?" 

"  Fortunately,"  said  Jack,  "  I  can  answer  you  with  a 
monosyllable — Yes." 

Clarence  extended  his  hand.  "  Shake,  old  boy !  Go 
ahead  and  win." 

"  I  have  been  talking  to  your  father,"  said  Jack, 
"  and  although  what  he  told  me  does  not  lessen  my 
love  for  Miss  Renville  in  any  way,  it  must  postpone  our 
happiness.    He  says  his  ward  is  very  poor." 

Involuntarily,  Clarence  gave  a  loud  whistle. 

Jack  looked  astonished.  "  What  did  you  do  that 
for  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,"  said  Clarence,  ''  when  the  governor  talks 
to  me  about  his  generosity  I  always  whistle." 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Glynne,"  said  Jack,  "  but  cannot 
you  add  a  word  or  two  to  the  whistle  ?  " 


60  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  Well,"  said  Clarence,  "  perhaps  I  can  put  in  a 
word.  A  thought  that  usually  runs  through  my  mind 
when  the  governor  is  talking  to  me,  is,  don't  believe 
all  he  says.  Take  my  advice,  Mr.  De  Vinne,  follow  the 
course  your  heart  dictates  and  I  believe  everything  will 
come  out  right  in  the  end.  Now,  I  have  been  wait- 
ing nearly  an  hour  for  you  for  this  little  game  of 
billiards  and  I  must  insist  upon  you  taking  your 
cue." 

It  was  late  that  night  when  Clarence  parted  from 
Jack  at  the  door  of  the  latter's  room.  Young  Mr. 
Glynne  had  smoked  cigarettes  incessantly  while  they 
had  been  playing  billiards,  and  he  felt  the  necessity  of 
a  walk  in  the  open  air  before  going  to  bed. 

As  he  passed  the  door  of  the  library,  he  was  surprised 
to  find  it  open,  for  he  had  supposed  that  his  father  had 
already  retired. 

"  Is  that  you,  Clarence  ?  " 

"  Yes,  father.    I  thought  you  had  gone  to  bed." 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  elder  Mr.  Glynne.  "  I  want 
to  talk  to  you." 

Clarence  sauntered  into  the  room,  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  wondering  what  was  in  store  for  him.  His 
father  shut  the  door  and  then  turned  upon  him  sharply. 

"  Clarence,  what  an  infernal  fool  you  were  to  bring 
that  fellow  down  here." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  Clarence,  "  I  think  it  was 
a  very  gentlemanly  and  courteous  act,  under  the  circum- 
stances. He  saved  Bertha's  life,  and  I  think  it  was  due 
to  him  to  give  him  an  opportunity  to  see  her." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  snarled  his  father,  "  it  is  all  right  for  him 
to  come  and  see  her,  but  she  is  a  silly  girl.  She  knows 
how  to  swim  and  she  could  have  gotten  ashore  all  right 
that  day,  but  she  thinks  she  owes  her  life  to  him  and, 
no  doubt,  if  he  asked  her  to  marry  him,  she  would  be 
agreeable  j  not  because  she  loved  him,  but  out  of  grati- 
tude." 


THE  EARL  OF  NOXTON.  61 

"  Well,"  said  Clarence,  "  I  may  be  the  infernal  fool 
jou  say  I  am,  but  I  do  not  think  Bertha  is  so  bereft 
of  sense  that  she  would  marry  any  man  out  of  simple 
gratitude.  If  she  loves  Jack  De  Vinne,  she  will  marry 
him  because  she  loves  him  and  not  for  any  other  rea- 
son." 

"  Well,"  said  his  father,  "  she  shan't  marry  him, 
and  you  know  the  reason.  I  shall  count  upon  you  to 
help  me ;  besides,  it  is  for  your  interest  to  do  so.  You 
remember  I  told  you  that,  if  she  does  not  marry  you, 
Bhe  shall  not  marry  any  one  else.  If  she  tries  to,  I 
shall  find  a  way  to  stop  it." 

"  Is  that  all  you've  got  to  say  ?  "  asked  Clarence. 
"  This  conversation  is  very  disagreeable  to  me ;  i»  fact, 
I  can't  see  the  point  to  it.  If  Mr.  De  Vinne  had  asked 
Bertha  to  marry  him  and  she  had  consented,  there  would 
be  an  exigency  for  us  both  to  face  but,  under  the  circum- 
stances, I  see  no  reason  why  either  you  or  I  should  be 
deprived  of  our  night's  rest.  I'm  going  out  for  a  little 
walk  in  the  park.  I  will  tell  Brinkley  to  wait  up  for 
me  until  I  get  back.  Good-night,  father,  and  pleasant 
dreams." 

When  Monday  morning  came  and  Jack's  visit  was  at 
an  end,  he  had  no  inclination  to  return  to  London.  Vic- 
tor had  gone  to  join  his  ship.  Clarence  was  going  to  the 
city  to  attend  to  business,  and  Jack,  naturally,  accom- 
panied him. 

Mr.  GljTine,  Sr.,  invited  him  to  come  again,  but  there 
was  no  great  warmth  in  the  invitation. 

Jack  had  hoped  that  he  would  be  able  to  speak  a  few 
words  to  Bertha  in  private,  but  Mr.  Gl>Tine  was  omni- 
present, and  beyond  a  shake  of  the  hand  and  a  parting 
glance — friendly  in  its  nature  but  nothing  more — Jack's 
romance  came  to  an  end,  for  the  time,  at  least. 

When  he  reached  London  he  determined  to  go  at  once 
to  IN'oxton  Hall.    Mr.  Glynne  had  advised  him  to  talk 


62  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

the  matter  over  with  his  father  and  he  had  decided  to 
do  so. 

When  he  reached  home  the  dogs  and  the  stable-boys 
ran  out  to  greet  him. 

His  father  extended  the  fingers  of  a  cold,  clammy 
hand  and  remarked :  "  Glad  to  see  you,  Jack,  of 
course.  Greatly  pleased  that  you  have  passed.  Had 
hoped  that  it  would  have  been  with  a  higher  standing, 
but  I  presume  there  were  many  young  men  of  excep- 
tional ability  in  your  class." 

"  Yes,  there  were,"  said  Jack,  "  and  I  did  not  belong 
to  that  class." 

The  Earl  sniffed.  "  You  have  had  every  advantage 
of  heredity  and  every  opportunity  for  preparation.  I 
do  not  see  any  reason  why  you  should  not  have  ranked 
with  the  highest.  Being  in  the  Navy  is  the  same  as 
being  in  public  life,  and  when  I  was  in  public  life  I 
always  kept  my  eyes  upon  the  topmost  round  of  the 
ladder." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jack,  "  and  I  am  very  proud  of  the  fact 
that  you  finally  put  your  foot  upon  it." 

The  Earl  acknowledged  the  compliment  with  a  stiff 
bow.  "  I  believe,"  he  said,  "  in  the  transmission  of 
ability  from  one  generation  to  another.  I  am  proud 
to  say  that  my  ancestors  were  men  of  eminence.  I  can- 
not help  feeling  some  regret  that  one  of  my  descend- 
ants  " 

Jack  broke  in :  "  But  you  have  Carolus.  All  the 
virtues  and  ability  of  our  ancestors  miist  descend  to  him. 
yl  am  only  a  second  son,  and  it  makes  little  difference 
what  becomes  of  me." 

"  That  is  not  the  right  way  to  look  at  it,"  said  the 
Earl,  severely.  "  To  be  sure,  Carolus  is  heir-apparent, 
but  in  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death.  You  know 
Carolus  is  not  in  good  health.  If  anything  should  hap- 
pen to  him  you  become  the  heir,  and  you  should  be  as 
Well-fitted  for  the  position  as  is  my  elder  son." 


THE  EARL  OF  NOXTON.  63 

"  Well,  I'm  sorry  I'm  not,"  said  Jack.  "  I  think 
I  could  keep  the  stables  up  to  a  high  standard,  but  as 
regards  the  rest  of  the  estate,  I'm  afraid  I  should  have 
to  depend  on  the  steward." 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come  as  you  have,"  said  the 
Earl,  changing  the  subject.  "  Your  mother  received  a 
letter  this  morning  from  the  Countess  of  Ashmont. 
She's  in  Paris  now  wdth  her  daughter.  Lady  Angeline, 
who,  you  know,  is  betrothed  to  your  brother  Carolus. 
They  expected  that  Carolus  would  return  from  the  baths 
in  Germany  in  time  to  escort  them  back  to  London,  but 
as  he  cannot  do  so,  the  Countess  has  written  to  know 
if  I  could  possibly  spare  time  from  my  estates  and 
official  duties.  I  really  cannot  do  so,  but  I  am  fortunate 
in  having  a  son  who  can  perform  that  pleasant  duty  for 
me  and  for  his  brother.  You  know,  in  case  anything 
should  happen  to  Carolus,  which  Heaven  forbid,  I 
should  expect  you  to " 

"  To  marry  Lady  Angeline  ?  "  asked  Jack.  "  I  really 
could  not  do  that.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  father,  since 
I  left  the  Academy  I  have  had  a  most  surprising  ad- 
venture. I  rescued  a  beautiful  young  girl  from  drown- 
ing and  have  fallen,  in  love  with  her." 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  asked  the  Earl. 

"  She  is  an  orphan,"  said  Jack.  "  She  is  the  ward 
of  Mr.  Thomas  Glynne,  of  Buckholme,  in  Berkshire." 

"  I  never  heard  of  him.    What  is  he  ?  " 

"  He  is  the  senior  member  of  the  firm  of  Walmonth 
and  Company  in  London.  They  are  in  the  iron  and 
steel  business,  I  believe.  They  sell  a  good  deal  to  the 
Admiralty." 

"  Has  she  money  in  her  own  right  ?  " 

Jack  was  honest ;  in  fact,  too  honest  for  his  own  good. 
It  is  not  always  advisable  to  tell  all  the  truth  upon  the 
slightest  provocation. 

"  Her  guardian  says  she  is  poor — in  fact,  entirely  de- 
pendent upon  his  bounty." 


64  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  Then,"  said  the  Earl,  "  I  think  the  sooner  you  go 
to  Paris  the  better.  After  you  return  with  the  Countess 
and  her  daughter,  we  are  all  going  to  Scotland.  Carolus 
will  be  back  by  that  time,  and  I  think  the  northern  air 
will  do  him  good." 

"  But  you  say  nothing  about  the  young  lady  with 
whom  I  am  in  love,"  persisted  Jack. 

"  I  do  not  see  that  there  is  anything  to  be  said,"  re- 
joined the  Earl.  "  You  have  told  me  that  the  young  lady 
is  penniless ;  for  the  second  son  of  an  earl  to  take  a  pen- 
niless bride  is  more  than  foolish — it  would  be  a  crime." 

Jack  went  up  to  his  mother's  room.  His  path  of  love 
was  not  strewn  with  rose-leaves  and  no  sunlight  fell 
upon  it  Both  guardian  and  father  were  against  him. 
Perhaps  he  had  been  building  a  castle  in  the  air,  for 
she,  too,  might  refuse  him  after  all.  His  brother  Car- 
olus was  his  father's  pride,  but  his  mother  had  always 
seemed  to  love  him  more  than  her  elder  son. 

Jack  felt  that  he  must  confide  in  her,  and  took  the 
first  opportunity,  after  family  affairs  had  been  talked 
over,  to  tell  of  his  adventure  and  of  the  beautiful  girl 
who  had  won  his  love. 

His  mother  proved  sympathetic.  "  I  do  not  see  why 
your  father  should  speak  as  he  did.  I  was  a  penniless 
girl,  too,  when  he  made  me  his  bride.  We  have  been 
very  happy  together  and  he  has  never  reproached  me 
for  my  lack  of  a  fortune.  Take  courage,  Jack ;  follow 
the  course  that  the  young  man  whom  you  call  Clarence 
advised  you  to  take.  As  he  said,  all  may  come  out  well 
in  the  end." 

"  But  father  says  that  if  Carolus  should  die,  he  would 
expect  me  to  marry  Lady  Angeline." 

He  has  no  right  to  expect  any  such  thing,"  said 
his  mother.  "  He  has  no  right  to  move  you  about  as 
though  you  were  a  pawn  on  a  chess-board,  and  I  have 
too  high  an  opinion  of  Lady  Angeline  to  think  that  she 
would  so  soon  forget  your  brother  Carolus,  to  whom  she 


THE  EARL  OF  NOXTON.  65 

IS  most  devoted.  It  is  possible  that  in  time  she  might 
learn  to  love  you,  but  if  you  did  not  love  her,  why, — " 
and  the  Countess  laughed, — "  there  is  nothing  more  to 
it,  Jack,  than  there  is  to  the  light  of  the  firefly.  It 
beckons  us  on,  but  it  cannot  be  relied  upon  to  lead  us  to 
our  destination." 

"  I  have  only  one  ray  of  hope,"  said  Jack.  "  Mr. 
Glynne's  son  made  a  very  strange  remark,  and,  I  nearly 
forgot,  he  gave  a  whistle  before  he  spoke." 

"  And  what  did  he  say  ?  "  asked  his  mother. 

"  He  told  me  not  to  believe  all  his  father  said." 

"  Ah!  "  said  Lady  De  Vinne.  "  Perhaps  there  is  a 
mystery  there.  I  had  a  box  of  books  come  down  from. 
Mudie's  a  few  days  ago,  and  I  have  been  reading  a 
novel  in  which  a  beautiful  young  girl,  being  left  an 
orphan,  was  committed  to  the  charge  of  her  father's 
most  intimate  friend.  She  was  the  rightful  owner  of  a 
large  fortune,  but  her  guardian  concealed  that  fact  from 
her  and  told  everybody  that  she  was  penniless.  I  have 
not  finished  the  story  yet,  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  in 
the  end  the  guardian's  duplicity  will  be  shown  and  that 
she  will  regain  her  fortune  and  marry  the  young  man 
whom  she  loves." 

"  Why,"  cried  Jack,  "  that  fits  the  case  exactly." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  his  mother,  "  do  not  lose  hope,'* 
and  putting  her  arms  about  his  neck  she  drew  him  to- 
ward* her  and  kissed  him.  "'  You  know.  Jack,  you  have 
always  been  very  dear  to  me  and  I  wish  you  to  be 
happy.  Wlienever  you  need  advice  or  consolation,  al- 
ways come  to  your  mother." 

"  I  will,"  said  Jack. 

He  went  downstairs  feeling  much  happier  than  he 
had  after  his  interview  with  his  father. 

He  made  his  preparations  to  go  to  Paris,  for  he  saw 
that  nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  refusing  to  comply 
with  his  father's  request.  He  was  to  leave  for  London 
the  next  afternoon. 


56  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Soon  after  breakfast  he  went  to  the  stables.  Joe 
Grimm,  his  favorite  stable-boy,  had  saddled  his  horse. 

"  I  am  going  to  take  a  little  gallop,"  he  said,  as  he 
threw  a  shilling  to  the  youngster. 

He  came  back  in  about  an  hour,  looking  much  re- 
freshed, with  his  head  clear,  his  mind  light,  and  a 
great  hope,  restored  by  his  mother's  words,  in  his  heart. 
As  he  dismounted,  he  saw  Hodson  coming  towards  him 
in  great  haste. 

"  Your  father  wants  you  at  once  in  the  library." 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  cried  Jack.    "  Is  he  ill  ?  " 

"  I^o,"  said  Hodson,  "  but  something  terrible  has 
happened.  I  don't  know  what  it  is.  He  is  crying. 
Your  mother  is  with  him,  and  she  is  crying,  too." 

As  Jack  entered  the  room  he  saw  that  what  Hodson 
had  told  him  was  true.  He  did  not  know  what  to  say, 
and  stood  expectantly  waiting  for  his  father  or  mother 
to  speak. 

His  father  arose  and  came  towards  him.  Placing 
his  hand  on  Jack's  shoulder,  he  said :  "  What  I  feared 
has  come  to  pass.  Your  brother  Carolus  is  dead,  and 
you  are  the  heir  to  the  Earldom  of  Noxton  and  its 
Cistates.  I  hope,  my  son,  that  you  will  prove  worthy 
of  them  both." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

DUAL  LIVES. 

"  Do  you  see  that  '  that '  ?  " 

The  speaker  was  Mr.  B.  Gorham  Potts,  head  reader 
for  the  great  London  publishing  firm  of  Johnson,  John- 
son, Smythe  &  Johnson,  and  as  he  uttered  the  words 
he  laid  a  page-proof  upon  the  table  before  the  young 
lady  who  sat  busily  engaged  in  writing. 

Mr.  Potts  had  been  christened  Benjamin  Gorham, 
the  Benjamin  being  in  honour  of  a  maternal  uncle  who 
had  gone  to  South  Africa,  and,  rumour  said,  had  ac- 
cumulated a  large  fortune.  But  when  the  said  uncle 
died  and  no  news  came  of  an  inheritance  for  any  mem- 
bers of  the  Potts  family,  both  father  and  mother  agreed 
that  a  mistake  had  been  made  at  the  baptismal  font. 
No  change,  however,  had  been  made  in  young  Benja- 
min's name.  He  began  work  in  a  printing-office  at  the 
early  age  of  fourteen  and  for  a  period  of  sixteen  years 
had  been  called  "  Ben  "  by  every  one  in  the  establish- 
ment, from  the  senior  proprietor  to  the  smallest  errand 

When  at  the  age  of  thirty  he  secured  a  position  in  the 
publishing  house,  in  the  composition  of  which  there 
were  so  many  Johnsons  that  he  decided  a  change  must 
and  should  be  made. 

"  Maria,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  "  I  am  going  to  work 
for  a  very  large  corporation.  I  am  to  hold  a  dignified 
position  and  for  that  reason  I  think  I  should  bear  a  dig- 
nified name." 

"  Yes,  Benny,"  said  his  wife,  in  a  tone  full  of  affec- 
tion. 

97 


68  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  That  is  the  last  time  you  will  use  that  name, 
Maria,"  he  exclaimed. 

The  diminutive  little  woman  was  startled  by  his  lan- 
guage and  the  sharp  tone  in  which  the  words  were 
uttered.  She  said  nothing,  but  acted  as  though  she  had 
received  a  blow. 

"  Yes,  Maria,  I  have  decided  to  change  my  name. 
My  old  skin-flint  of  an  Uncle  Benjamin,  for  whom  I 
was  named,  left  me  nothing.  I  have  honoured  his  mem- 
ory for  thirty  years,  but  in  future  I  propose  to  be  known 
as  B.  Gorham  Potts  and  to  sign  my  name  in  that  way." 

The  little  woman  took  in  the  situation.  "  Yes,  Gor- 
ham," she  exclaimed,  timidly. 

"  Don't  you  think  that's  an  improvement  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  and  then  with  that  delightful  British 
unconsciousness  of  her  own  joke,  she  exclaimed :  "  Let 
it  be  Gorham." 

But  to  return  to  that  "  that." 

Mr.  Potts  repeated  his  question  in  a  more  decisive 
manner.     "  Do  you  see  that  *  that '  ?  " 

The  young  lady  addressed  tossed  her  head  and  pouted 
perceptibly.  She  was  a  pretty  little  brunette.  Proof- 
readers are  made  responsible  for  so  many  errors  per- 
petrated by  others,  as  well  as  for  their  own  shortcom- 
ings, that  they  are  inclined  to  tergiversation  when  mat- 
ters are  brought  to  them  for  correction.  She  shut  one 
eye  and  looked  closely  at  the  offending  word  with  the 
other. 

At  last  she  said :  "  There  is  one  '  that,'  but  I  am  im- 
able  to  see  the  second  '  that '  to  which  you  refer." 

Mr.  Potts  was  thin  and  angular.  He  smiled  occasion- 
ally ;  not  all  at  once — ^it  might  be  said  in  sections — the 
smile  moving  from  one  feature  to  another,  like  sunlight 
on  a  picket  fence.  Mr.  Potts  was  not  a  hard-hearted 
man  and  as  he  looked  at  the  dainty  little  woman  before 
him,  the  thought  came  to  him :     "  What  if  she  were 


DUAL  LIVES.  59 

my  daughter  and  some  other  man  stood  in  my  place, 
under  similar  circumstances  ?  " 

"Do  you  not  see,  Miss  Caswell,  that  that  'that' 
should  be  a  '  than '  instead  of  that  '  that '  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  "  it  ought  to  be  '  than,'  "  and 
she  turned  over  quickly  some  galley-slips  which  lay  be- 
side her. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  the  author  did  not  see  it." 

"  I  should  think,  Miss  Caswell,  that  you  had  been  a 
proof-reader  long  enough  to  have  learned  that  an  author 
never  sees  anything,"  said  Mr.  Potts,  contemptuously. 
"  They  are  too  busy  with  ideas  to  think  of  such  minor 
matters  as  spelling,  punctuation,  and  grammar." 

"That's  true  of  Mr.  Stowell,"  said  Miss  Caswell, 
"  and  such  writing,  too,  but  his  books  sell." 

"  We  have  made  him,"  said  Mr.  Potts,  his  chest 
swelling.  "  He  was  an  unknown  author,  but  we  made 
his  first  book  go." 

"  And  he  has  been  a  go  ever  since,"  said  Miss  Cas- 
well, laughing. 

"  Yes,  and  when  Mr.  Smythe  rejected  one  of  his 
books  he  took  it  to  another  house  and  they  are  getting 
the  benefit  of  all  our  advertising." 

"  Well,  you  could  not  expect  him  to  throw  his  manu- 
script into  the  ash-heap,"  remarked  Miss  Caswell. 

"  No,  but  he  could  have  threatened  to  do  it  and 
Smythe  would  have  taken  it,  but  authors  have  no  tact — 
they  are  all  temper — they  think  publishers  are  their 
enemies  instead  of  being  their  best  friends." 

Miss  Caswell  enjoyed  the  conversation ;  it  gave  her  a 
little  rest  from  her  very  prosaic  duties.  She  was  well 
acquainted  with  the  peculiarities  of  Mr.  Potts  and 
knew  how  to  extend  the  conversation  indefinitely. 

"  How  about  the  critics  ?  "  slie  asked. 

"  Bah !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Potts,  "  They  are  just  as 
bad ;  each  one  likes  a  certain  kind  of  story  and  he  calls 
the  rest  rubbish." 


60  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

'  Miss  Caswell,  evidently,  had  a  feeling  for  the  critic 
"  It  must  be  wearing  to  read  so  many  books ;  no  wonder 
they  praise  what  they  like." 

"  I  don't  believe  they  read  them.  They  get  an  idea 
of  the  plot  from  some  other  paper ;  then  they  open  the 
book,  read  a  few  pages  here  and  there,  and  then  write 
their  review.  Why,  I  know  a  critic  who  flouted  a  book 
1  because  there  were  two  '  buts '  in  the  same  sentence, 
but  the  joke  was,  both  were  used  correctly.  We  had 
three  Oxford  professors  decide  the  question." 

Miss  Caswell  dexterously  gave  another  turn  to  the 
conversation :  "  You  must  get  tired  of  reading  so  many 
stories,  Mr.  Potts,  and  in  manuscript,  too." 

"  It's  a  business  with  me ;  a  day's  work  is  a  day's 
work.  When  it  is  over  I  have  my  home,  my  wife,  my 
little  boy  Jimmy,  and  baby  Dorcas.  You  ought  to  get 
married,  Miss  Caswell.    It's  the  only  way  to  live." 

The  young  girl's  face  flushed.  The  conversation  had 
taken  an  imexpected  turn.  It  was  time  to  get  back 
to  business. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  see  that  *  that,'  Mr.  Potts." 

Again  that  thin,  erratic  smile  on  Mr.  Potts'  face. 
"  You  did  see  '  that,'  Miss  Caswell ;  please  change  it  to 
'  than.'  Had  it  gone  to  print  it  would  have  been  bad, 
but,  as  we've  caught  it,  there's  no  harm  done.  There 
was  never  a  book  printed  that  did  not  have  some  sort 
of  an  error  in  it  Mr.  Smythe,  a  few  years  ago,  read 
the  proofs  of  one  himself.  He  boasted  that  it  was  per- 
fect and  that  he  would  give  a  hundred  pounds  to  any  one 
who  found  an  error  in  it.  It  turned  out  to  be  such  a 
good  joke  on  himself  that  he  told  it,  but  I  don't  believe 
anybody  got  the  hundred  pounds." 

"  Did  he  find  the  mistake  himself  ? "  Miss  Caswell 
asked. 

"  Yes,  he  went  into  a  book-shop,  took  up  the  book, 
and  was  going  to  tell  the  proprietor  that  he  would  give 
him  a  hundred  pounds  if  he  could  find  an  error  in  it, 


DUAL  LIVES.  81 

when  his  eye  lit  on  a  colon  that  ought  to  have  been  a 
comma.  He  did  not  brag  so  much  after  that  and  has 
never  read  the  proofs  of  another  book  since." 

Mr.  Potts  walked  away  and  Miss  Caswell  resumed 
her  work.  She  had  before  her  a  large  pile  of  proofs 
that  must  be  in  the  printer's  hands  early  the  next  morn- 
ing, and  it  was  nearly  an  hour  beyond  the  appointed 
time  for  leaving  when  she  arose  from  her  table  and 
made  her  way  homeward. 

"  Why,  where  in  the  world  have  you  been,  Mrs. 
Glynne  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Liloquist,  the  landlady,  as 
she  opened  the  door  to  admit  "  Miss  Caswell." 

"  Has  my  husband  got  home  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  has  been  here  nearly  an  hour  and  has 
been  downstairs  at  least  six  times  to  ask  where  you 
were.  N^ow,  how  could  he  expect  me  to  know  where 
you  were  ? " 

"  It  was  very  unreasonable  in  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Glynne,  laughing,  "but,  you  know,  men  are  all  un- 
reasonable." 

"What's  the  matter,  Clarence?*'  she  cried,  as  she 
burst  into  the  room. 

Her  husband,  Mr.  Clarence  Glynne,  was  sitting  by 
the  window,  but  arose  quickly  and  greeted  his  wife  with 
an  embrace  and  a  kiss. 

"  Why  are  you  here,  Clarence  ?  Of  course  I  am  de- 
lighted to  see  you,  but  you  told  me  this  morning  that 
you  would  have  to  go  to  Buckholme  to-night." 

"  I  did  intend  to,  Jennie,  but  really,  I  did  not  dare 
to  go  out  there  until  I  knew  what  to  do.  I  was  going 
to  tell  you  about  it  this  morning,  but  there  was  no  time ; 
besides,  I  thought  I  might  see  my  way  clear  as  to  what 
to  do,  during  the  day." 

"  Do  not  keep  me  waiting  any  longer,  Clarence,"  said 
his  wife,  with  a  little  stamp  of  her  foot.  "  I  am  just 
dying  to  know  what  it  is  about,  and  you  keep  talking 
all  around  it  without  telling  me  what  the  trouble  is," 


eg  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  Hadn't  we  better  have  supper  first  ?  " 

"  No,"  cried  Jennie.  "  I  cannot  wait  another  min- 
ute." 

"  Well,  the  fact  is,"  began  Clarence,  "  yon  know  all 
about  Bertha;  how  the  governor  keeps  asking  me  to 
propose  to  her.  Of  course  he  does  not  know  that  I 
already  have  a  nice  little  wife  of  my  own,  and  for  that 
reason  I  excuse  him." 

"  Well,  I  do  not,"  said  Jennie.  "  He  has  no  business 
to  tell  you  to  marry  anybody.  But  your  father  will 
have  to  know  about  our  marriage  some  time.  Mrs. 
Liloquist  is  very  inquisitive,  but  she  has  not  learned 
anything  from  me,  except  that  we  are  very  poor  and 
we  both  have  to  work  for  a  living.  We  are  living  dual 
lives,  Clarence.    How  long  shall  we  have  to  do  so  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  answer  that  question  now,"  said  Clarence, 
"  but  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you  is  this :  Bertha  has 
had  a  letter  from  a  friend  in  Paris — a  lady  who  knew 
her  father  when  he  lived  there.  She  has  found  out  in 
some  way  about  Bertha  and  wishes  her  to  come  and 
pay  her  a  visit." 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  anything  serious  in  that,"  said 
Jennie.     "  When  is  she  going  ?  " 

"  The  governor  won't  let  her  go.  It's  all  my  fault, 
too.  I  had  a  letter  from  Jack  De  Vinne  saying  that  his 
brother  was  dead  and  that  he  was  going  to  Paris  to 
escort  Lady  Ashmont  and  her  daughter  home  so  they 
could  go  to  the  funeral.  The  big  idiot  that  I  was,  I 
told  the  governor  and  he  scented  danger  right  oflF.  You 
know  I  told  you  about  Jack  coming  to  see  us.  Well,  he 
was  going  to  propose  to  Bertha,  but  thought  it  was  his 
duty  to  speak  to  his  father  first.  Jack  was  only  the 
second  son  of  an  earl  then,  and  father  frightened  him 
a  little  by  telling  him  that  Bertha  was  a  penniless  or- 
phan." 

"  But  isn't  she  ?  "  asked  Jennie.  "  You  have  always 
said  she  was." 


DUAL  LIVES.  63 

"  A  man  and  his  wife  are  one,  are  they  not  ?  "  asked 
Clarence. 

"  Why,  you  goose,  of  course  they  are." 

"  Well,  then,  Jennie,  if  I  come  into  possession  of  a 
secret,  no  matter  how,  and  I  give  my  solemn  promise 
that  I  will  not  tell,  am  I  breaking  that  promise  if  I 
toll  my  wife  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course  not,  Clarence.  You  have  no  right 
to  have  any  secrets  from  your  wife.  How  can  a  man 
love,  honour,  and  obey  his  wife  if  he  keeps  a  secret  all  to 
himself  ?     Now,  Clarence,  dear,  what  is  the  secret  ?  " 

"  I  will  whisper  it  to  you,  Jennie.  Bertha  isn't  poor 
at  all ;  she  is  worth  forty  thousand  pounds  in  her  own 
right,  but  my  father  is  her  guardian  and,  according  to 
her  father's  will,  the  governor  has  a  right  to  hold  on 
to  the  property  until  she  marries,  and,  of  course,  he  does 
not  want  her  to  marry  any  one — except  me.  Of  course, 
I  don't  want  her,  for  good  and  sufficient  reasons  which 
are  now  before  me." 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  cried  Jennie.  "  Jack  De  Vinne  is  going 
to  Paris,  and  your  father  thinks  that  this  letter  business 
is  only  a  scheme  to  enable  Bertha  to  go  to  Paris  and 
meet  Jack." 

"  You  have  hit  it  exactly,  Jennie.  What  heads  you 
women  have !  " 

"  Does  Bertha  know  Jack  is  there  ?  " 

"  Of  course  she  doesn't.  She  wants  to  go  because  she 
is  tired  of  Buckholme.  She  has  been  cooped  up  there 
all  her  life.  Now  she  wants  to  see  the  rest  of  the 
world." 

"  If  she  does  meet  Jack,  it  will  come  out  all  rijjht, 
won't  it,  Clarence  ?  Now  that  he  is  to  be  Earl  of  Nox- 
ton  one  of  these  days,  with  fine  estates  and  a  big  rent- 
roll,  it  won't  frighten  him  if  Bertha  is  poor." 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Clarence.  "  But  here's  the  fix  I'm 
in.  Bertha  never  goes  to  father,  but  confides  all  her 
troubles  to  me.     She  expects  me  to  manage  it  in  some 


64  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

way  so  that  she  can  go.    I  told  her  I  would,  and  I  don't 
dare  go  to  Buckholme  until  I  can." 

"  Then  it's  lucky  for  you,  Clarence,  that  you  have  a 
wife  with  a  head,  as  you  expressed  it  If  you  will  let 
me  manage  the  affair,  it  will  come  out  all  right." 

"  You  can  do  just  as  you  like,  Jennie.  How  much 
money  will  you  want  ?  " 

*'  Oh,  not  a  great  deal.  Let  me  see.  In  the  first 
place  she  will  wish  to  take  her  wardrobe  with  her. 
Now,  it  won't  do  for  her  to  pack  up  her  things  at  Buck- 
holme.  Mrs.  Liloquist  was  moaning  to-day  because  she 
has  a  vacant  room  next  to  ours.  These  lodging-house 
keepers  are  always  in  a  fret  and  worry.  Now,  I  will 
make  her  happy  by  telling  her  that  a  cousin  of  yours 
is  coming  to  London  from  the  country  and  wants  a  room 
for  a  week  at  least.  Now  you  will  have  to  play  your 
part,  Clarence.  You  must  go  out  to  Buckholme  every 
night  and  be  very  attentive  to  Bertha.  I  won't  be  jeal- 
ous. Every  morning  when  you  come  in  fetch  in  some 
of  Bertha's  wardrobe.  I  will  do  her  packing  for  her, 
and  when  the  important  day  arrives  she  must  tell  your 
father  that  she  is  coming  to  London  to  do  some  shop- 
ping and  you  must  offer  her  your  services  to  escort 
her." 

"  Well,  I  never  heard  anything  like  it,"  cried  Clar- 
ence.   "  You  ought  to  be  a  detective  in  Scotland  Yard." 

"  Well,  if  you  had  read  as  many  detective  stories  as 
I  have,  you  would  not  think  I  have  told  you  much 
of  a  plot  after  all ;  however,  who  knows  but  that  it  may 
turn  out  to  be  a  big  one  in  the  end  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Clarence,  "  after  her  luggage  is  packed 
and  she  is  here,  what  are  you  going  to  do  next  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  am  going  to  Paris  with  her.  I  have  never 
done  anything  in  my  life  that  will  please  me  so  much 
as  to  outwit  your  father." 

"  He  is  a  pretty  shrewd  one,"  remarked  Clarence. 

"  I  know  he  is,"  said  Jennie,  "  and  for  that  reason 


DUAL  LIVES.  66 

I  am  going  to  do  somethiiig  that  will  throw  him  off  the 
track.  Of  course  he  will  think  that  she  has  gone  to 
Dover  and  from  there  to  Calais  and  then  to  Paris,  but 
we  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  asked  her  husband. 

"  Well,  I  shan't  tell  you  until  the  very  day  we  start. 
It  is  better  that  you  should  not  know.  You  are  one  of 
those  men  who  when  they  have  anything  on  their  mind 
everybody  can  see  it  and  it  makes  them  inquisitive. 
Now  you  had  better  be  fancy-free  until  the  morning  of 
our  departure ;  then  I  will  tell  you  where  we  are  going. 
Now,  Clarence,  I  want  you  to  make  me  a  promise.  No 
matter  what  happens,  you  must  keep  your  mouth  shut 
tight.  Do  not  tell  anybody  which  way  we  went  nor 
where  we  have  gone." 

"  You're  a  darling,  Jennie,"  he  cried.  "  I  will 
promise  anything.  Now  we  must  go  out  and  get  our 
Buppers,  for  I'm  as  hungry  as  a  bear." 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

beetha's  escape. 

'As  Jennie  anticipated,  Mr.  Thomas  Glynne  was  very 
much  pleased  when  he  saw  the  growing  intimacy  be- 
tween his  son  and  ward. 

"  It  isn't  so  hard,  Clarence,  to  come  out  from  London 
every  night  and  go  back  every  morning  as  it  used  to  be, 
is  it?" 

Clarence,  with  his  usual  lack  of  tact,  put  his  foot  in 
it  again.  "  Well,  governor,  forty  thousand  pounds  is 
not  to  be  sneezed  at." 

"  You're  right,  Clarence,  and  I'm  glad  to  see  that 
you  are  growing  sensible.  I  have  often  wondered  how 
you  could  be  so  foolish  on  a  certain  point  and  yet  be  a 
son  of  mine." 

Clarence  had  to  tell  Bertha  his  secret — that  he  was 
married  and  that  it  was  his  inventive  little  wife  who 
had  thought  out  a  plan  by  which  her  escape  from 
Buckholme  could  be  managed  successfully. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  so  pleased  to  meet  her,"  said  Bertha. 
"  You  say  she  is  a  little  woman." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Clarence,  with  enthusiasm.  "  I 
can  take  her  right  in  my  arms  and  carry  her  about.  I 
don't  think  she  weighs  more  than  eight  stone  and  per- 
haps not  so  much.  But  she  wants  to  know  what  part 
of  Paris  your  friend  lives  in.  She  has  been  there  and 
knows  the  city  pretty  well." 

"  I  will  let  her  have  my  new  friend's  letter,"  said 
Bertha.  "  It  will  be  safer  with  her  anyway.  Here  it 
is,"  and  she  took  it  from  her  bosom.  "  You  may  read 
it" 

66 


BERTHA'S  ESCAPE.  07 

Clarence  availed  himself  of  her  penmssion. 

"  My  Dear  Little  Gibl  : 

"  I  have  just  learned  in  a  roundabout  way,  which  I 
shall  not  take  time  to  explain  here,  that  the  only  child 
of  one  who  was  a  very  dear  friend  of  mine  years 
ago,  Mr.  Oscar  Renville,  is  living  in  England  and  is 
a  ward  of  Mr.  Thomas  Glynne,  of  Buckholme,  in  Berk- 
shire. I  do  not  remember  your  christian  name  and  for 
that  reason  have  directed  this  letter  simply  to  Miss 
Renville.  I  remember  you  when  you  were  a  little  girl ; 
that  is  why  I  began  this  letter  as  I  have.  When  your 
father  used  to  bring  you  to  see  me,  he  called  you  by 
some  pet  name  which  might  or  might  not  have  been 
your  own,  but  which,  as  I  said  before,  I  have  forgotten. 
I  have  not  forgotten  you,  however.  I  am  a  widow  with 
one  son,  nearly  twenty-two.  I  was  married  when  quite 
young  and  am  not  yet  forty;  so  you  see  I  am  not  yet 
an  old  woman  and  shall  not  be  such  bad  company,  after 
all,  for  a  young  girl  of  eighteen.  I  shall  be  delighted 
to  have  you  come  to  Paris  and  stay  with  me  as  long 
as  your  guardian  will  allow.  On  the  outside  it  is  a 
beautiful  city;  under  the  crust  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
wickedness,  but  we  shall  keep  away  from  that  and  look 
for  the  goodness  which  I  know,  too,  is  here.  Give  my 
kindest  regards  to  Mr.  Glynne,  and  tell  him  that  I  shall 
be  pleased  to  have  him  as  my  guest,  for  I  presume  he 
will  accompany  you  to  Paris.  I  live  at  Number  22,  Rue 
St.  Francis.  Every  cab-driver  in  Paris  knows  where 
it  is  and  there  are  many  people  in  this  city  who  know 
your  loving  friend, 

"  Marie,  Countess  Mont  d'Oro." 

The  transportation  of  Bertha's  wardrobe  from  Buck- 
holme  to  Clarence's  lodgings  was  carried  on  without 
causing  any  suspicion  in  the  mind  of  the  elder  Mr. 
Gl;^Tme  and  a  day  was  fixed  for  her  departure. 


68  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Jennie  suggested  that  Mr.  De  Vinne  should  know 
that  Bertha  was  going  to  Paris. 

"  He  may  be  there  now,"  said  her  husband.  "  I 
have  seen  no  notice  in  the  paper  of  his  brother's  funeral. 
I  will  send  him  a  wire;  that's  the  best  way." 

Clarence's  message  was  short  and  to  the  point;  it 
contained  but  five  words :  "  Are  you  there  ?  Some- 
thing important." 

The  return  message  was  equally  concise.  "  Funeral 
day  after  to-morrow.     Write  me." 

"Quite  a  coincidence"  said  Jennie.  "Mr.  De 
Vinne's  brother  is  to  be  buried  on  the  day  we  have 
fixed  for  our  departure.  I  do  not  think  it  is  best  for 
him  to  meet  Bertha  while  she  is  with  us.  She  had  to 
know  our  secret,  but  it  is  not  necessary  that  any  more 
should  be  acquainted  with  it  just  at  present  You  write 
to  him  to-day  that  we  are  going,  and  he  will  probably 
lose  no  time  in  taking  the  most  direct  course  by  way 
of  Dover  and  Calais." 

"  Yes,"  said  Clarence,  "  but  how  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  We  shall  leave  London  day  after  to-morrow  by  a 
very  early  train.  I've  got  it  all  figured  out.  Bertha 
is  coming  to  the  city  to-morrow.  Of  course  your  father 
will  fume  and  fret  and  wonder  why  you  two  do  not  re- 
turn home,  but  knowing  that  she  is  with  you  will  relieve 
his  anxiety  to  a  great  extent" 

"  If  he  thought  I  had  eloped  with  her,  he  would  be 
perfectly  satisfied,"  said  Clarence. 

"  No  doubt,  but  will  he  be  so  well  satisfied  when  he 
learns  that  she  has  eloped  with  your  wife?  But  you 
must  not  tell  him.  Give  me  your  solemn  promise  that 
you  will  not  To-morrow  night  I  will  tell  you  the  route 
which  I  have  laid  out  for  our  flight." 

Clarence's  conversation  with  his  wife  had  taken  place 
in  the  afternoon  and  he  returned  to  Buckholme  that 
evening.  He  was  more  attentive  than  ever  to  Bertha. 
The  senior  Mr.  Glynne  sought  the  seclusion  of  his  li- 


BERTHA'S  ESCAPE.  60 

brary.  With  his  hands  clasped  behind  him,  he  walked 
briskly  up  and  down  the  long  apartment,  smiling  to 
himself  and  repeating  in  an  undertone :  "  That  boy 
of  mine  is  no  fool  after  all ;  he  knows  on  which  side  his 
bread  is  buttered." 

The  next  morning  Clarence  said :  "  Governor,  things 
are  moving  along  faster  than  I  expected.  I  have  not 
proposed  yet.  I  think  it  is  best  not  to  hurry  the  matter ; 
but  I  would  like  to  have  Bertha  go  to  London  with  me, 
as  I  saw  a  beautiful  locket  in  a  jeweller's  window  in 
Regent  Street.  I  am  going  to  take  her  to  look  at  it 
and  if  she  is  delighted  with  it,  as  I  know  she  will  be,  I 
am  going  to  buy  it  for  her.  You  know  there  is  nothing 
pleases  a  woman  as  much  as "  He  came  near  say- 
ing "  having  her  own  way,"  but  he  bethought  himself 
in  time  and  finished  with,  "  having  a  nice  present  from 
a  young  man." 

The  senior  Mr.  Glynne  rubbed  his  hands  together 
gleefully,  and  patted  his  son  approvingly  on  the  shoul- 
der. His  next  move  was  to  take  out  his  pocket-book, 
from  which  he  extracted  a  ten-pound  note  which  he 
passed  to  Clarence,  saying :  "  Get  something  pretty 
nice." 

The  evening  of  that  day  found  Bertha  an  occupant 
of  the  room  which  had  remained  so  long  empty  in  Mrs. 
Liloquist's  lodging-house.  She  had  been  introduced  as 
Miss  Mary  Barker,  a  cousin  of  Mr.  Glynne's,  who  was 
on  the  way  to  see  her  brother  who  lived  in  Berwick-on- 
Tweed,  near  the  Scottish  border. 

"  It's  a  long  journey,"  said  Mrs.  Glynne,  "  and  I 
am  going  with  her.  I  told  Mr.  Potts — he  is  the  head 
man  at  the  place  where  I  work — that  I  was  about  tired 
out  and  needed  a  little  vacation.  So  you  see,  as  the 
old  proverb  says,  I  am  going  to  kill  two  birds  with  one 
stone." 

Mrs.  Liloquist  always  subdued  her  curiosity  if  she 
yi&s  confided  in.    It  was  the  safest  way  to  deal  with  her, 


70  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

for  if  subjected  to  a  severe  cross-examination,  which 
was  quite  possible,  she  might  tell  more  than  was  wished, 
or  than  was  desirable  under  the  circumstances. 

When  Jennie  and  her  husband  were  alone  in  their 
own  room,  Jennie  remarked :  "  I  think  I  have  satis- 
fied Mrs.  Liloquist  I  don't  think  she  will  ask  you  any 
questions." 

"  But  you  have  not  satisfied  my  curiosity,"  said  Clar- 
ence. "  Now  is  the  accepted  time ;  where  are  you  going 
— I  mean,  which  way  are  you  going  to  Paris  ?  " 

"  Well,  sit  down,"  said  Jennie,  "  and  I  will  tell  you 
the  whole  story.  It  is  quite  a  romance.  I  was  bom, 
as  you  know,  in  the  little  coast  town  of  Pagham  in  Sus- 
sex. The  people  make  their  living  by  fishing,  and  my 
father  was  a  fisherman.  You  know,  both  my  father 
and  mother  are  dead.  If  I  had  not  been  left  an  orphan, 
I  should  not  have  come  to  London.  I  am  glad  I  did  so, 
for  if  I  had  not  I  should  never  have  met  you ;  but  that's 
not  to  the  point.  I  have  been  down  to  Pagham.  There 
are  a  good  many  living  there  now  who  knew  my  father. 
One  of  his  best  friends  was  Captain  Jacob  Carder,  who 
now  owns  one  of  the  best  fishing  vessels  in  the  town. 
Now,  perhaps,  you  guess  my  plan. 

"  Instead  of  taking  Bertha  to  Paris  by  way  of  Dover 
and  Calais,  we  shall  go  down  to  Pagham  and  Captain 
Carder  will  take  us  over  to  France  in  his  schooner.  He 
says  he  will  land  us  at  a  place  where  it  will  be  easy  for 
us  to  get  a  train  for  Paris.  Your  father,  of  course, 
will  ask  you  where  Bertha  is.  You  must  say  you  don't 
know.  In  such  cases,  white  lies  are  allowable.  I  cannot 
tell  you  what  to  say  to  your  father,  because,  if  I  do,  I 
know  you  will  get  it  all  mixed  up.  Whatever  you  say 
you  must  invent  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  and  then 
stick  to  it." 

By  half -past  six  the  next  morning  Mrs.  Glynne  and 
Bertha  were  on  their  way  to  Pagham.  Clarence  did 
not  accompany  them  to  the  station. 


BERTHA'S  ESCAPE.  71 

"  You  had  better  not,"  said  Jennie.  "  Your  father 
will  put  detectives  on  your  track,  and  one  of  them  will 
be  sure  to  be  at  the  station  and  recognise  you.  I  am 
not  80  well  known  and  for  that  reason  will  be  able  to 
escape  observation.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  your  father 
came  to  London  by  the  first  train  from  Buckholme." 

Clarence  arrived  at  his  office  an  hour  earlier  than 
usual.  His  wife's  surmise  had  been  correct — his  father 
was  there  before  him. 

"  Are  you  married,  Clarence  ?  "  was  the  first  ques- 
tion. 

"  Why,  no,"  said  the  son,  taken  aback  by  the  ques- 
tion. 

"  Well,  then,  where's  Bertha  ?  What  do  you  mean  by 
bringing  her  to  the  city  in  such  a  manner?  Where  is 
she,  I  say  ?  " 

The  crucial  moment  had  come.  Clarence  had  thought 
of  a  dozen  different  explanations  to  give,  but  the  one  he 
did  offer  was,  as  his  wife  had  advised,  the  inspiration 
of  the  moment. 

"  I  could  not  help  it,"  he  said.  "  It  was  all  over  in 
a  minute.  It  must  have  been  prearranged  between 
them." 

"  Who  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  his  father  thundered. 

"  Why,  Jack  De  Vinne  and  Bertha,"  said  Clarence. 
"  We  drove  down  to  Regent  Street  in  a  four-wheeler. 
She  was  delighted  with  the  locket  and  I  bought  it  for 
her.  I  took  your  ten  pounds  for  the  chain.  As  we  came 
out  of  the  store,  who  should  I  see  standing  on  the 
sidewalk  but  Jack  De  Vinne.  Bertha  got  into  the  car- 
riage and  I  was  on  the  point  of  following  her,  when  she 
exclaimed  that  she  had  left  her  parasol  on  the  show- 
case. I  went  back  for  it,  but  when  I  came  out  of  the 
store  the  carriage  was  gone." 

"  What  an  infernal  fool  you  were,  Clarence." 

"  Why,  governor,  how  could  I  help  it  ?  I  had  no 
idea  that  Jack  De  Vinne  was  in  London.     I  should 


72  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

kave  as  soon  expected  to  see  the  man  in  the  moon.  I 
supposed  that  he  was  at  IToxton  Hall.  I  understood 
his  brother  was  to  be  buried  yesterday.  The  paper  said 
so." 

Mr.  Glynne,  Sr.,  seemed  staggered  by  the  informa- 
tion. "  You  never  do  anything,  Clarence,  that  you  don't 
make  a  mess  of  it.  When  you  get  married  I  have  no 
doubt  you  will  make  a  mistakei  and  get  the  wrong 
woman." 

"  I  may  be  a  big  fool,  as  you  say,  but  I  don't  think  I 
shall  make  that  mistake." 

"  Where  do  you  think  they  have  gone  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Glynne. 

"  1  haven't  the  slightest  idea,"  said  Clarence. 

"  Well,  I  have,"  said  his  father. 

"  Where  ?  "  asked  Clarence. 

"  I  shall  confide  my  suspicions  to  the  detectives.  I 
do  not  think  you  are  a  safe  person  for  confidences.  I 
think  you  had  better  stay  in  London,  Clarence,  imtil 
I  go  back  to  Buckholme.  I  will  let  you  know  when  I 
do  so." 

"  Well,  that's  over,"  said  Clarence  to  himself  after 
his  father  had  left  the  room.  "  I  have  told  more  lies 
in  the  last  fifteen  minutes  than  I  ever  told  before  in 
all  my  life;  but  Jennie  said  it  was  all  right,  and  she 
knows.  I  shall  have  to  go  up  to  the  house  this  noon. 
Bertha  had  so  many  things  that  she  could  not  take 
with  her,  and  Jennie  made  me  promise  to  pack  them 
up  and  send  them  after  her." 

It  was  a  huge  package  when  complete  and  much  too 
heavy  for  Clarence  to  carry  under  his  arm.  He  dis- 
covered this  fact  after  he  had  walked  a  short  distance 
from  his  lodgings,  and  calling  a  cab,  told  the  driver 
to  take  him  to  the  railway  parcel  office. 

Twenty  minutes  later,  a  round-faced,  smoothly  shaven 
man  applied  the  knocker  so  vigorously  that  Mrs.  Lilo* 
fluist's  face  was  rosy-red  when  she  opened  the  door. 


BERTHA'S  ESCAPE.  73 

"  A\Tij,  sir,  you  must  be  in  a  great  hurry  to  make 
such  a  racket.     Now,  what  do  you  want,  sir  ?  " 

"  Is  there  a  young  man  living  here  named  Glynne  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Liloquist.  "  He  just  went 
out  He  had  a  big  bundle,  and  I  told  him  it  was  too 
heavy  for  him  to  carry."  ' 

"  How  soon  is  he  coming  back  ?  " 
/     "  Well,   really,   I  don't  know.     He  usually  comes 
home  about  six  o'clock,  but  his  wife's  gone  away  with 
a  friend  and  perhaps  he'll  stay  out  later.    Men  usually 
do  when  their  wives  are  away." 

"  Did  you  say  his  wife  had  gone  away  ?  I  don't 
think  he  can  be  the  one  I  want  to  find.  I  am  his  uncle. 
I  have  been  in  South  Africa  and  have  just  got  back 
to  London.  The  young  man  I  want  to  find  is  named 
Clarence  Glynne." 

"  Well,  that's  his  name,"  said  Mrs.  Liloquist,  "  and 
his  wife's  name  is  Jennie.  They  have  been  living  here 
with  me  nearly  two  years." 

"  And  you  say  that  she  has  gone  away  with  a 
friend?" 

"  Yes,  a  young  lady  named  Mary  Barker,  who  lives 
in  Devonshire.  Miss  Barker's  brother  lives  in  Berwick- 
on-Tweed  and  Mrs.  Glynne  has  gone  there  with  her." 

"  What  sort  of  a  looking  person  is  this  Miss  Bar- 
ker?" 

"  Oh,  she's  just  the  beautifullest  girl  I  ever  saw.  I 
have  read  in  books  about  young  ladies  with  blue  eyes 
and  golden  hair,  but  she's  the  first  one  I  ever  saw  that 
matched  the  story  book." 

"  Well,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  I  will  come  around 
again  about  six  o'clock.  Much  obliged  to  you,  ma'am, 
for  your  information.  I  hope  my  nephew  has  got  a 
good  wife." 

"  Oh,  she's  a  fine  woman,"  said  Mrs.  Liloquist,  "  and 
very  clever.  She  works  every  day  at  something  or 
other.     She's  the  kind  of  a  wife  for  a  £Oor  man,  and  I 


74  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

judge  from  what  your  nephew  savs  that  they  would 
have  hard  work  getting  along  if  she  didn't  do  something 
to  help." 

Clarence  was  surprised  late  that  afternoon  to  have 
another  visit  from  his  father.  Mr.  Glynne,  Sr.,  was 
accompanied  by  a  stalwart  gentleman  with  a  marked 
professional  aspect. 

"  So  you've  got  back  again,  father,"  said  Clarence, 
not  suspecting  the  turn  which  affairs  had  taken. 
"  Have  you  found  any  clue  ?  " 

"  Plenty  of  them,"  said  his  father,  sternly.  "  I 
know  the  whole  business.  Come  into  the  private  office 
with  me,  and  you,  Mr.  Lake,"  he  said,  turning  to  his 
companion,  "  sit  down  and  wait  for  us." 

When  they  were  alone  together  the  expression  on 
Mr.  Thomas  Glynne's  face  changed  from  one  of  as- 
sumed serenity  to  one  of  the  deepest  malignity. 

"  Clarence  Glynne,"  said  his  father,  "  I  told  you 
this  morning  that  you  were  an  infernal  fool;  now  I 
know  that  you  are  an  infernal  liar.  You  have  been 
deceiving  me  for  years.  You  are  a  married  man,  and 
that  is  the  reason  why  you  have  refused  to  marry  my 
ward." 

Clarence  sank  into  a  chair.  Oh,  if  Jennie  were  only 
there  to  help  him ! 

"  I  am  going  to  make  short  work  of  this.  Do  you 
know  who  that  man  is  in  the  other  room  ?  " 

Clarence  shook  his  head. 

"  He  is  an  officer  from  Scotland  Yard.  I  have 
lodged  a  complaint  against  you  for  kidnapping  my 
ward.  Although  you  are  my  son,  I  shall  proceed 
against  you  as  though  you  were  an  utter  stranger." 

A  rat  will  turn  when  it  is  cornered,  and  Clarence  felt 
that  he  must  do  something,  or  within  an  hour  he  would 
be  behind  the  bars. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  have  me  arrested,  father  ?  " 

"  Certainly,   I   do,    and   if   the   case   goes   against 


BERTHA'S  ESCAPE.  76 

you,  you  won't  see  that  wife  of  yours  for  years  to 
come." 

The  words  stimg  Clarence.  Separated  from  Jennie ! 
!N^o,  he  could  not  stand  that. 

"  Father,  under  the  circumstances,  I  consider  myself 
absolved  from  the  promise  I  made  you  to  keep  silent 
about  Bertha's  property.  If  I  am  taken  to  court  I 
shall  tell  the  whole  story." 

"  I  had  supposed  that  you  would,"  said  his  father. 
"  Your  landlady  said  that  Bertha,  or  Miss  Barker,  as 
she  called  her,  had  gone  up  North,  but  I  know  better. 
She  is  gone  to  Paris  to  meet  Jack  De  Vinne.  You  can 
get  ready  to  go  with  the  officer.  We  will  be  back  for 
you  in  five  minutes." 

Clarence  did  not  know  what  to  do.  He  had  lost  his 
hold  over  his  father.  His  threat  to  tell  the  truth  about 
Bertha's  fortune  had  failed  to  produce  any  effect  upon 
him. 

During  the  five  minutes  which  had  been  allowed  him, 
Clarence  did  nothing  but  think  in  an  aimless  sort  of  a 
way  of  a  dozen  impossible  courses  of  action. 

The  door  of  the  private  office  opened  and  his  father 
entered  with  Mr.  Lake. 

"  I  have  decided,"  said  his  father,  "  not  to  give  you 
ilito  custody  until  to-morrow  morning.  I  wish  you  to 
accompany  me  to  Buckholme.  Mr.  Lake  will  go  with 
us  and  keep  you  under  surveillance." 

Clarence  did  not  wish  to  sit  and  look  at  the  stem 
face  of  his  father,  nor  the  enigmatical  one  of  IMr.  Lake ; 
nor  did  he  wish  to  feel  that  their  eyes  were  fastened 
upon  him,  reading,  perhaps,  his  inmost  thoughts.  He 
sank  into  a  corner  of  the  carriage  and  closed  his  eyes, 
to  all  appearances  in  a  state  of  apathetic  indifference. 
But  his  mind  was  busy.  What  was  his  father  about  to 
do  ?  Would  he  throw  him  out  of  the  business  ?  Well, 
if  he  did,  he  made  up  his  mind  that  he  could  make  a 
living  some  way.     To  be  sure,  he  had  been  provided 


76  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

with  everything  that  he  needed  at  Buckholme,  but  his 
personal  share  of  the  profits  of  the  firm  of  Walmonth  & 
Company  had  been  very  small.  It  was  for  that  reason 
that  his  wife  had  obtained  employment.  As  to  his 
arrest  for  kidnapping,  he  cared  but  little. 

Before  they  reached  Maidenhead  the  tumult  of  his 
feelings  had  subsided,  and  when  they  entered  the  house 
the  servants  could  not  have  told  from  his  appearance 
that  anything  had  happened. 

His  father  shut  himself  in  the  library.  Clarence 
went  to  the  billiard  room  to  play  a  game  of  pool  soli- 
taire, but  when  he  found  that  he  was  closely  followed 
by  Mr.  Lake,  he  invited  him  to  join  in  the  game  and 
found  him  no  mean  antagonist.  But  while  he  played, 
outwardly  calm,  his  thoughts  were  busy,  and  during 
the  evening  he  asked  himself  a  hundred  times :  "  Have 
they  reached  Paris  in  safety  ?  " 


CHAPTER    VIIL 

A  SOEEOW   AND   A    SOLACE. 

The  next  morning  after  breakfast,  during  which  not 
a  word  was  spoken  by  either  of  the  three  gentlemen, 
Clarence  was  commanded  by  his  father  to  follow  him 
into  the  library.  He  saw  by  the  look  on  his  parent's 
face  that  he  was  implacable.  He  would,  naturally, 
have  objected  to  the  mandatory  tone  used  by  his  father, 
but  decided  that  it  was  useless  to  quarrel  about  trifles 
when  there  were  such  important  matters  to  be  settled. 

Mr.  Glynne,  St.,  sat  at  the  library  table  and  Clarence 
sank  into  a  chair  a  few  feet  distant. 

"  Turn  your  face  around  so  that  the  light  may  fall 
upon  it,"  said  his  father.  "  I  propose  to  ask  you  a 
few  questions  and  I  expect  you  to  tell  me  the  truth.  If 
you  lie  to  me,  I  think  the  light  will  help  me  to  ascertain 
that  fact." 

Clarence  did  as  he  was  bidden. 

"  Now,  who  is  your  wife  and  what  is  she  ?  " 

"  Is  that  material  ?  "  asked  Clarence. 

"  Do  not  bandy  words ;  the  sooner  we  get  at  the  point 
of  the  matter  the  better.  As  to  its  being  material,  I 
think  it  is ;  very  much  so." 

"  She  is  an  orphan.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a 
fisherman,  but  when  she  lost  her  parents  she  came  to 
London  and  went  to  work  to  support  herself.  She 
worked  in  our  oflfice  for  a  while,  but  left  because  a  bet- 
ter position  was  offered  her." 

"  Very  good,"  said  his  father.  "  You  surely  looked 
for  high  game  and  got  it." 

"  If  you  make  any  more  such  comments  about  my 

77 


78  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

wife,"  said  Clarence,  "  I  will  refuse  to  answer  another 
question,"  and  there  was  a  ring  in  his  voice  which  told 
the  father  that  the  son  meant  what  he  said. 

"  Where  did  she  come  from  ?  " 

"  She  was  born  at  Pagham,  a  little  village  in  Sussex 
on  the  English  Channel." 

"  And  she  is  gone  with  Bertha  as  her  companion  ? " 
He  had  intended  to  say  "  your  accomplice." 

"  Yes." 

"  Where  have  they  gone  ?  " 

"  They  are  on  their  way  to  Paris.  Bertha  wished  to 
visit  her  friend  and  I  thought  it  was  all  right  for  her  to 

go." 

"  Then  that  story  you  told  me  about  her  going  away 
in  a  carriage  with  Jack  De  Vinne  was  a  lie  ?  " 

Clarence  could  not  help  smiling  as  he  replied: 
"  Well,  I  must  confess  it  was  not  a  very  close  approach 
to  the  truth." 

"  I  judged  not,"  said  his  father.  "  I  did  not  be- 
lieve it  when  you  told  me.  You  said  Bertha  was  going 
to  stay  with  a  friend  in  Paris.  What  is  her  name  and 
where  does  she  live  ?  " 

"  She  is  the  Countess  Mont  d'Oro,  and  she  lives  at 
22,  Eue  St.  Francis." 

"  Is  Jack  De  Vinne  in  Paris?  " 

"  I  presume  he  is  at  I^oxton  Hall,"  was  Clarence's 
guarded  reply.  He  did  not  think  it  necessary  or  advis- 
able to  tell  his  father  that  he  had  written  Jack  the 
morning  that  his  wife  and  Bertha  had  left  London  that 
the  latter  was  on  her  way  to  Paris  to  become  the  guest 
of  the  Countess  Mont  d'Oro. 

There  was  silence  for  some  time.  Clarence  grew 
impatient  and  turned  his  head.  His  father  was  evi- 
dently in  deep  thought. 

"  That  will  do,"  he  said  at  last  "  I  hope  you  have 
told  me  the  truth.  If  yon  have  not,  I  shall  soon  find 
out  the  extent  of  your  deception.     I  shall  leave  to- 


A  SORROW  AND  A  SOLACE.  79 

night  for  London  and  will  go  to  Paris  to-morrow  morn- 
ing. Mr.  Lake  will  be  your  companion  imtil  I  return. 
If  I  find  my  ward  is  still  Miss  Renville,  and  I  bring 
her  back  witli  me,  I  will  dismiss  the  case  against  you. 
If  she  is  married,  Mr.  Lake  will  escort  you  to  London 
and  you  will  have  to  stand  the  consequences  of  your 
very  foolish  action.  I  shall  be  obliged  to  take  charge  of 
my  London  business  again,  for  I  shall  be  a  compara- 
tively poor  man  when  Miss  Renville,  or  Mrs.  Whatever- 
her-name-may-be,  demands  her  inheritance,  for,  no 
doubt,  you  have  told  her  that  she  is  a  rich  woman  by 
right." 

Clarence  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  I  have  not  told  her  one 
word.     She  has  heard  nothing  from  me." 

!N^or  had  she,  nor  did  Clarence  know  that  his  wife 
had  found  the  secret  too  much  to  keep  and  had  un- 
bosomed herself  to  Bertha  on  the  way  to  Pagham. 

Just  after  dinner,  while  Mr.  Glynne  was  busily  en- 
gaged making  preparations  for  his  journey,  Brinkley, 
the  butler,  told  him  that  a  young  man  who  looked  as 
though  he  had  just  come  from  the  coimtry  wished  to  see 
Mr.  Clarence. 

"  Show  him  into  the  library,"  said  Mr.  Glynne. 

When  he  entered  it,  he  found  a  young  man  standing 
first  on  one  foot  and  then  on  the  other  and  twirling  his 
hat  nei-vously. 

Mr.  Glynne  closed  the  library  door.  "  What  did  you 
wish  to  see  my  son  for  ?  " 

"  I've  got  somethin'  private  to  tell  him." 

"  I'm  sorry  to  say  that  he  is  very  sick  and  can  see  no 
one.  I  am  his  father ;  you  can  tell  me,  and  when  he  is 
in  a  condition  to  listen,  I  will  communicate  the  intel- 
ligence to  him." 

"  If  he's  sick,"  said  the  young  man,  "  I  don't  think 
the  news  I  got  fer  him  will  make  him  any  better." 

Mr.  Glynne  began  to  think  that  the  young  man  had 
something  of  importance  to  communicate.     "  Have  a 


80  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

seat,  sir.  You  can  tell  your  story  much  better  sitting 
than  you  can  standing." 

The  young  man  looked  intently  at  the  luxurious  easy- 
chair.  He  was  more  used  to  a  hard  bench  than  to  up- 
liolstered  furniture.  He  finally  sat  down,  but  stood  up 
again  as  he  felt  the  springs  give  way  beneath  him. 

"  Oh,  you'll  find  it  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Glynne,  "  and 
verv  comfortable,"  and  he  took  his  accustomed  position 
at  the  library  table.  "  ITow,  I  won't  ask  you  any  ques- 
tions," said  he,  "  but  will  let  you  tell  your  story  in  your 
own  way." 

The  young  man  sidled  to  the  edge  of  the  chair  which 
seemed  more  capable  of  supporting  him,  and  began  his 
story : 

"My  name  is  Silas  Jubb  and  I  live  down  ia 
Pagham." 

Mr.  Glynne  was  all  attention. 

"  My  chum's  name  is  Job  Carder.  He's  all  knocked 
up  and  he  couldn't  come,  so  he  sent  me." 

Mr.  Glynne  thought  it  was  time  to  reassure  the  young 
man.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  my  son's  wife  was  bom  in 
Pagham.  She  left  London  yesterday  morning  on  her 
way  to  Paris,  in  company  with  a  friend,  and  I  under- 
stood from  my  son  that  they  were  to  sail  from  Pag- 
ham." 

"  Well,  they  won't  get  there,"  said  Silas,  with  a 
shake  of  his  head ;  "  that's  what  I'm  here  for." 

Mr.  Glynne  felt  the  blood  rushing  to  his  head,  and 
his  pulse  quickened.  "  There  has  been  an  accident," 
he  thought.     But  he  would  ask  no  questions. 

"  Job's  father  named  his  boat  the  Dart  cuz  it  was  the 
fastest  craft  of  the  kind  in  town,  but  it  wuz  run  down 
by  one  of  them  !N'avy  vessels  in  the  Channel  and  Job's 
father  and  Bill  Merry  and  George  Danks  and  the  two 
women  was  drownded.  Job  was  the  only  one  picked  up, 
and  he's  'most  dead.  You  see,  afore  the  Dart  set  sail, 
the  women  told  Job's  father  to  get  word  to  your  son  if 


A  SORROW  AND  A  SOLACE.  81 

they  reached  the  other  side  all  right  As  they  didn't, 
when  Job  came  to,  he  thought  as  how  you'd  be  anxious 
to  know  how  things  wuz  and  that's  what  he  sent  me  up 
for." 

"  It  was  very  thoughtful  of  him,"  said  Mr.  Glynne, 
"  and  very  kind  of  you  to  bring  us  the  sad  news." 

He  had  never  felt  such  a  strong  impulse  of  generos-- 
ity.  He  gave  the  young  man  a  five-pound  note,  saying 
as  he  did  so :  "  You  can  divide  with  your  chum." 

The  young  man  had  arisen  and  put  on  his  hat.  His 
hand  went  to  the  brim  by  way  of  salute.  "  He'll  be 
glad  to  git  it,  for  the  loss  of  the  boat  '11  come  hard  on 
him.  I  told  him  before  I  started  as  how  I  thought  I'd 
find  you  to  be  a  gentleman,  cuz  the  ladies  wuz  so  fine." 

!Mr.  Glynne  rang  for  Brinkley  and  told  him  to  supply 
the  man  with  a  substantial  meal  before  he  started  on 
his  journey  back  to  Pagham. 

Five  pounds!  But  the  news  was  surely  worth  that 
and  more. 

"  A  great  sorrow  for  Clarence,  but  such  a  solace  for 
me,"  was  Thomas  Glynne's  uppermost  thought  The 
fortune  was  now  his,  if  Clarence  would  hold  his  tongue. 

His  son's  sickness,  the  grave  nature  of  which  had  led 
him  to  assure  Mr.  Jubb  that  he  could  not  see  him,  did 
not  keep  Mr.  Glynne  from  breaking  the  news  at  the 
earliest  opportunity.  He  had  not  anticipated  the  re- 
sult which  followed.  Perhaps,  if  he  had,  he  would  have 
told  the  story  in  a  gentler  manner. 

Clarence  was  prostrated  by  the  intelligence.  By 
midnight  his  condition  was  so  alarming  that  Brinkley 
was  obliged  to  start  off  in  the  darkness  to  bring  a 
doctor. 

Brain  fever,  was  the  physician's  decision  after  he 
had  made  his  diagnosis.  Compared  with  many  others, 
Clarence  was  a  weak  man  both  physically  and  mentally. 
He  had  been  on  the  rack  for  twenty-four  hours,  and  this 
great  blow  was  more  than  he  could  bear.     His  brain 


82  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

gave  way  and  he  lay  there  with  only  the  ministrations 
of  the  hired  nurses,  growing  thinner  and  weaker  every 
day. 

Did  his  father  wish  him  to  live?  Only  the  Great 
Power  that  knows  all  hearts  could  have  answered  that 
question. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

VEVrS    OF    THE    FUGITIVES. 

'*  Do  you  tliink  it  shows  a  proper  regard  for  the 
memory  of  your  dead  brother  to  go  to  Paris  and  take 
part  in  its  frivolities  ?  " 

The  question  was  asked  by  the  Earl  of  Noxton. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  Paris  for  any  such  purpose,  and 
I  think  it  unjust  to  me  for  you  to  entertain  such  a 
thought,"  said  Jack.  "  I  have  received  a  letter  which 
makes  it  absolutely  necessary  for  me  to  go  there;  be- 
sides, I  must  have  a  change.  I  feel  my  brother's  death 
much  more  than  you  credit  me  with.  It  throws  respon- 
sibilities upon  me  which  I  had  never  thought  to  assume. 
I  shall  notify  the  Admiralty  that  I  do  not  wish  an  as- 
signment at  present" 

"  I  shall  close  up  N'oxton  Hall,"  said  the  Earl,  "  and 
go  to  Scotland  with  the  Countess.  Amid  the  solitude  of 
our  northern  home  we  shall  be  much  more  likely  to 
appreciate  the  lesson  taught  us  by  our  sad  bereavement. 
Both  your  mother  and  I  had  thought  you  would  ac- 
company us." 

"  My  stay  in  Paris  will  be  short,"  said  Jack,  "  and  I 
will  give  you  my  word  that  when  my  business  there  is 
attended  to  I  will  join  you  in  Scotland." 

"  I  presume  I  shall  have  to  be  satisfied  with  that," 
said  the  Earl.  "  I  have  no  desire  to  command  the  heir 
to  the  Earldom  of  Noxton,  if  he  is  deaf  to  my  en- 
treaties." 

Jack  went  to  Paris.  He  had  been  there  before  when 
a  student,  and  his  associates  on  that  occasion  had  been 


84  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

those  suited  to  his  position  in  life.  I^ow  all  was 
changed. 

He  had  no  difficulty  in  securing  an  introduction  to  the 
Countess  Mont  d'Oro,  for  an  Earl's  son  and  heir  is 
always  persona  grata.  He  received  a  warm  welcome 
from  that  lady.  Perhaps  his  greeting  would  not  have 
been  so  cordial  if  almost  his  first  inquiry  had  not  been, 
"  Has  Miss  Renville  arrived  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,"  said  the  Countess.  "  I  wrote  and  asked 
her  to  come  and  said  that  I  should  be  delighted  to  see 
her.  You  see  I  knew  her  father  well.  But  I  have  re- 
ceived no  word  from  her  that  she  intended  to  make  the 
visit  at  present." 

Jack  could  not  conceal  his  agitation.  "  There  must 
be  some  mistake  here,"  he  cried.  "  Read  this  letter, 
my  dear  Countess,  and  tell  me  what  you  think,"  and  he 
passed  her  Clarence's  letter. 

"  I  cannot  understand  the  matter  at  all,"  said  the 
Countess,  as  she  returned  the  letter.  "  I  will  write  to 
Mr.  Glynne  at  once.  Come  and  see  me  day  after  to- 
morrow. Mr.  Glynne  will  probably  write  me  that  her 
departure  was  postponed  for  some  good  reason." 

Jack  forgot  his  promise,  or  rather  statement,  to  his 
father,  that  he  did  not  intend  to  visit  Paris  to  engage 
in  its  frivolities.  In  his  state  of  mind  some  distraction 
was  absolutely  necessary.  "  If  I  cannot  stop  thinking 
I  shall  go  mad,"  he  said  to  himself,  and  he  at  once  be- 
came immersed  in  the  whirl  of  gaiety  for  which  Paris 
is  famous,  though  his  interest  therein  was  of  the  head 
rather  than  of  heart. 

On  the  appointed  day  he  called  on  the  Countess  !Mont 
d'Oro,  but  there  was  no  letter  from  England.  On  the 
third  day  the  Countess  again  shook  her  head,  but  on  the 
fourth,  in  response  to  his  inquiring  glance,  she  saitl : 

"  I  have  a  letter,  but  I  am  afraid  to  read  it  to  you." 

"  I  can  bear  anything  better  than  this  suspense,"  said 
Jack. 


NEWS  OF  THE  FUGITIVES.  85 

Then  the  Countess  read  Mr.  Glynne's  letter. 

"  Dear  Madam  : 

"  Your  letter  received.  I  should  have  answered  it 
sooner  but  for  the  dangerous  illness  of  my  son,  who  is 
at  death's  door.  In  reply  to  your  inquiry,  I  can  only- 
say  that  I  have  been  informed  by  what  I  consider  good 
authority  that  my  ward,  Miss  Renville,  left  for  London^ 
in  company  with  my  son's  wife,  on  their  way  to  Paris, 
your  residence  being  their  presumed  destination.  In- 
stead of  taking  the  boat  from  Dover  to  Calais,  which 
would  have  offered  a  safe  and  speedy  passage,  for  some 
as  yet  unexplained  reason  they  chose  to  make  the  voy- 
age in  a  fishing  vessel  which  was  run  down  in  the  Chan- 
nel, and  all  on  board,  with  the  exception  of  the  captain's 
son,  were  drowned.  I  regret  that  I  cannot  give  you  any 
further  particulars.  If  I  learn  anything  more  con- 
cerning the  sad  affair,  I  shall  be  pleased  to  communicate 
with  you.  I  have  the  honour  to  be,  dear  madam, 
"  Your  most  obedient  servant, 

"  Thomas  Glynne." 

"  Drowned !  "  cried  Jack,  "  and  I  loved  her  so.  Oh, 
madam,  this  blow  would  be  easier  to  bear  if,  when  I  had 
the  opportunity,  I  had  told  her  that  I  loved  her.  I 
think  she  knew  it,  but  I  did  not  speak.  I  was  the 
second  son  of  an  earl  with  no  prospect  but  a  minor 
position  in  the  'Navj.  My  brother  is  dead  and  I  am 
now  heir  to  the  title  and  estates.  You  knew  this,  of 
course,  before,  but  I  tell  you  again  to  show  you  how 
foolish  I  was  not  to  speak  when  I  had  the  chance.  All 
would  have  come  out  right ;  now  all  has  gone  wrong, 
and  I  am  the  one  to  blame.  If  I  had  told  her  that  I 
loved  her  and  we  had  been  engaged,  she  never  would 
have  made  the  trip  in  this  foolish  way.  Yes,  madam,  I 
am  to  blame  and  I  shall  never  forgive  myself." 

Countess  Mont  d'Oro  was  a  practical,  sensible  woman. 


86  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Instead  of  expressing  sympathy  for  the  young  man  in 
his  almost  uncontrollable  grief,  she  used  common  sense. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  have  any  right  to  blame  yourself 
in  any  way  for  this  sad  affair.  You  were  not,  even  in 
the  remotest  degree,  the  cause  of  it.  If  she  had  been 
engaged  to  you  and  had  received  my  letter,  she  would 
have  made  the  journey  in  just  the  same  way,  but  in- 
stead of  your  receiving  the  news  of  it  from  her  guard- 
ian's son,  she  would,  no  doubt,  have  written  to  you 
herself  and  would  have  told  you  that  she  was  going  to 
make  the  trip  on  the  fishing  schooner  so  that  her  guard- 
ian could  not  follow  her,  for  you  remember  that  young 
Mr.  Glynne  says  in  his  letter  that  her  guardian  had  re- 
fused his  permission  for  her  to  visit  me.  Kow,  we 
must  hope  for  the  best.  Miss  Renville's  guardian  has 
the  first  report  of  the  accident.  One  was  saved  and  he, 
naturally,  thinks  that  the  others  were  lost.  They  may 
have  been  picked  up  by  some  vessel  and  we  may  hear 
from  them  within  a  few  days." 

"  You  give  me  hope,"  said  Jack,  "  but  I  must  con- 
fess that  it  is  only  a  faint  one.  Dying  men  clutch  at 
straws,  they  say,  and  I  will  grasp  what  you  offer  me." 

"  Come  and  see  me  every  day,"  said  the  Countess. 
"  I  am  a  widow  with  one  son  about  your  age.  I  must 
confess  that  he  is  not  a  very  affectionate  or  dutiful 
young  man  so  far  as  his  mother  is  concerned.  Some 
sons  are  that  way." 

"  Yes,  a  good  many  are  that  way,"  said  Jack,  "  when 
they  are  young,  but  many  of  them  reform  when  they 
grow  older,  and  make  up  by  their  devotion  for  their 
past  neglect." 

"  I  see,"  said  the  Countess,  "  you  are  holding  out  a 
straw  to  me.  I  hope  yours  will  prove  a  more  substantial 
one  than  mine  is  likely  to  be." 

Jack  called  on  the  Countess  every  day.  On  one  of 
his  visits  the  Countess  told  him  that  her  son  was  be- 
trothed to  a  beautiful  young  girl  who  lived  at  Alfieri 


NEWS  OF  THE  FUGITIVES.  87 

in  Corsica.  "  That  is  my  present  home,"  she  added. 
"  I  was  bom  in  Italy ;  my  husband,  the  late  Count,  was 
a  native  of  Corsica,  though  of  Italian  ancestry. 

A  week  passed  and  still  no  tidings.  "  I  can  bear 
this  no  longer,"  said  Jack  to  the  Countess.  "  My  hope 
has  died  out.  I  know  that  the  worst  has  happened  and 
the  dream  of  my  life  is  gone  forever.  I  had  intended 
to  stop  in  London  and  ask  the  Admiralty  not  to  assign 
me  to  a  post  in  the  Xavy,  but  I  learn  there  are  rumours 
of  a  coming  war.  Russia's  aggressions  in  the  Crimea 
are  resented  not  only  by  this  country,  but  by  my  own, 
and  I  heard  to-day  that  the  King  of  Sardinia  is  dis- 
posed to  form  a  triple  alliance  against  the  Muscovite. 
I  shall  go  back  to  London  to-morrow  and  request  that  I 
be  assigned  at  once  to  some  position  of  duty." 

"  I  would  advise  you  not  to  do  it,"  said  the  Countess. 

"  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me,"  said  Jack. 
"  Please  make  your  advice  more  explicit.  What  do 
you  think  it  best  for  me  to  do  ? " 

"  You  said  your  father  and  mother  were  going  to 
Scotland.     What  is  your  address  there  ?  " 

"  Cobleigh  Towers.  It  is  on  the  Scottish  side  of  the 
Tweed,  opposite  Berwick.  Let  me  see.  Oh,  if  my  let- 
ters are  sent  to  Carlisle  they  will  reach  me." 

"  Well,  my  advice  is,"  said  the  Countess,  "  that  you 
rejoin  your  father  and  mother  and  be  as  patient  as  you 
can  for  the  next  ten  days.  If  by  that  time  I  receive  no 
word,  I,  too,  shall  lose  hope.  I  will  then  agree  with 
you  that  the  best  way  to  dull  your  sorrow  will  be  to 
choose  a  life  of  action;  that  and  labour  are  the  only 
panaceas  for  such  grief." 

"  I  will  do  it,"  said  Jack.  "  I  will  do  anything  to 
please  you." 

Another  week  pasr<?d.  The  Countess  still  hoped 
from  day  to  day,  but  each  night  saw  no  fruition.  One 
morning,  as  the  Countess  was  reclining  in  her  boudoir, 
reading  the  monthly  report  of  the  steward  of  her  Cor- 


88  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

sican  estate,  her  maid  announced  that  there  were  two 
young  ladies  in  the  drawing-room  who  wished  to  see 
her. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  Countess  had  made  the 
necessary  change  in  dress  and  descended  to  greet  her 
visitors.  She  surveyed,  with  a  look  akin  to  astonish- 
ment, the  two  very  pretty  young  ladies  who  came  for- 
ward to  greet  her.     The  one  with  dark  hair  spoke  first. 

"  Is  this  Countess  Mont  d'Oro  ?  " 

The  Countess  bowed. 

"  I  am  Mrs.  Glynne — ^Mrs.  Clarence  Glynne — and 
this  is  my  friend  Miss " 

She  did  not  have  an  opportunity  to  complete  the  sen- 
tence, for  the  Countess  stepped  forward  quickly  and 
clasped  the  other  young  girl  in  her  arms. 

"  And  this  is  my  dear  little  girl.  Bertha  Renville.  I 
was  your  father's  friend  and  I  will  be  yours.  But  how 
were  you  saved  ?  We  heard  that  all  on  board  the  fish- 
ing boat  were  drowned." 

"  If  we  had  been  men,"  cried  Jennie,  "  we  should 
have  been  drowned  too.  We  were  thrown  into  the 
water  by  the  collision,  but  our  dresses  saved  our  lives. 
They  would  not  have  done  so  had  we  remained  in  the 
water  long  enough  for  them  to  get  saturated,  but  they 
held  us  up,  and  we  were  seen  by  one  of  the  officers  on 
Her  Majesty's  frigate  Victoria  which  ran  us  down. 
The  young  man  who  saw  us  was  a  lieutenant.  He  had 
the  vessel  stopped  and  came  to  our  rescue  in  a  boat. 
Oh,  I  think  he  was  just  the  loveliest  young  man  l' 
ever  met  in  my  life,  don't  you.  Bertha  ?  " 

"  A  very  natural  thought,"  said  the  Countess,  with 
a  smile.  "  Young  ladies  are  very  apt  to  fall  in  love 
with  handsome  young  men  who  save  their  lives." 

Bertha  flushed  perceptibly.  She  thought  of  the 
Thames  and  one  who  had  saved  her  life  on  a  previous 
occasion. 

"  And  he  had  such  a  romantic  name,"  said  Jennie. 


NEWS  OF  THE  FUGITIVES.  89 

"  Of  course  I  would  not  think  of  falling  in  love  with 
him  for  I  am  a  married  woman,  but  I  suppose  there  is 
no  harm  in  my  falling  in  love  with  his  name — Claude 
Levaille,  he  said  it  was." 

"  But  where  have  you  been  all  this  time  ?  "  asked  the 
Countess. 

"  Oh,  that's  the  strangest  part  of  it,"  said  Jennie. 
"  Come,  Bertha,  I  have  done  all  the  talking  so  far.  You 
must  tell  the  rest  of  the  story." 

"  It  is  a  very  simple  one,"  said  Bertha.  "  The  frig- 
ate was  bound  for  Marseilles.  The  admiral  said  he 
would  have  been  delighted  to  put  us  ashore  at  some 
point  near  Paris,  but  he  was  under  strict  orders  to  pro- 
ceed at  once  to  the  Mediterranean." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,"  said  the  Countess.  "  Mr.  De 
Vinne  told  me  that  there  was  likelihood  of  a  war  with 
Russia." 

"  Jack  De  Vinne  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Glynne.  "  Has  he 
been  here  ?  " 

"  For  a  long  time,"  said  the  Countess.  "  He  has 
been  here  every  day  to  see  if  I  had  any  news  about 
you.  He  is  a  very  sad,  unhappy  young  man.  He  has 
gone  to  his  father's  place  in  Scotland.  I  must  write 
at  once  and  tell  him  of  your  safety.  Perhaps,  though, 
it  would  be  better  if  Miss  Renville  would  write  him. 
I  will  give  you  his  address." 

"  Oh,  yes,  that  will  be  much  better,"  said  Jennie. 
"  And  now  that  I  have  delivered  you  into  the  arms  of 
your  friend,  the  Countess,"  she  added,  "  I  must  go  right 
back  to  London.  I  have  no  doubt  that  my  husband  is 
distracted." 

"  Will  you  excuse  me,  Bertha  ? "  said  the  Countess. 
"  I  cannot  call  you  Miss  Renville,  it  is  too  formal." 

"  Xor  do  I  wish  you  to,"  said  Bertha.  "  No  one  calls 
me  Miss  Renville,  except " 

"  Mr.  De  Vinne,"  said  Jennie,  with  a  laugh,  "  but 
he  won't  much  longer." 


90  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  Mrs.  Glyiine,"  said  the  Countess,  "  I  have  some- 
thing to  tell  you,"  and  she  led  her  into  an  anteroom. 

"  What  is  it,"  cried  Jennie.  "  My  husband,  Clar- 
ence, is  he  dead  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  the  Countess,  "  but  his  father  writes 
me  that  he  is  very  sick,  prostrated,  no  doubt,  by  the 
news  of  your  supposed  death.  He  is  at  his  father's 
residence ;  I  forget " 

''  Oh,  I  know,"  said  Jennie — "  Buckholme.  I  have 
never  been  there.  We  were  secretly  married.  Perhaps 
you  do  not  know,  but  Clarence's  father  wished  him  to 
marry  Bertha,  but  he  couldn't  because  I  was  his  wife, 
but  his  father  didn't  know  that.  I  suppose  it  is  all 
out  now  and  I'm  glad  of  it.    I  will  go  to  him  at  once." 

Jennie  hurried  with  all  speed  to  London  and  took  the 
first  train  thence  for  Buckholme.  The  thought  upper- 
most in  her  mind  was  as  to  what  her  reception  by  Clar- 
ence's father  would  be,  and  her  first  question  after 
greeting  her  husband  was : 

"  Where  is  your  father,  Clarence  ?  " 

"  Gone  to  seek  Bertha,  dear,"  he  answered,  wearily, 
"  but  I  hope  a  kind  Providence  will  prevent  his  ever 
finding  her." 

"  Amen,"  exclaimed  Jennie,  reverently. 


CHAPTER    X. 

"  LA   GEAN DE    PASSION." 

Afteb  Jennie's  departure,  the  Countess  gave  herself 
up  entirely  to  the  pleasure  which  she  found  in  the 
company  of  her  young  guest. 

"  I  knew  your  father,  Oscar  Renville,  I  may  say, 
intimately.  It  was  after  the  death  of  your  mother,  but 
my  husband  was  then  living.  I  was  in  Corsica  when 
your  father  died.  I  would  gladly  have  taken  you  as 
my  own,  for  I  must  confess  that  when  my  son  was 
bom  I  was  very  sorry  he  was  not  a  daughter  instead. 
It  was  only  a  short  time  ago  that  I  learned  Mr.  Glynne 
had  adopted  you." 

"  No,"  said  Bertha,  "  he  never  adopted  me.  He  is, 
or  rather  was,  my  guardian." 

"  Has  he  more  than  one  child  ?  " 

"  Only  one  son,  Clarence.  His  father  wished  him 
to  marry  me,  but  although  Clarence  was  always  kind  to 
me — really  the  best  friend  I  had  at  Buckholme — he 
never  proposed  to  me.  I  thought  several  times  that 
he  was  on  the  point  of  doing  so,  but  I  can  see  now  why 
he  did  not." 

"  I  think  he  would  have  done  so,"  said  the  Countess, 
"  if  it  had  not  been  for  a  previous  love  affair." 

"  Oh,  it  was  not  that,"  cried  Bertha.  "  He  knew  me 
long  before  he  became  acquainted  with  his  present  wife ; 
but  it  may  have  been  so  after  all,  for  I  was  onlv  six- 
teen." 

If  Clarence  Glynne  had  been  lukewarm  in  his  love- 
making.  Bertha  soon  found  that  Count  Napier  Mont 

•1 


02  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

d'Oro  was  the  exact  reverse.  On  his  part,  at  lea&t,  It 
was  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight.  He  declared  to  his 
friend,  the  Marquis  Caussade,  that  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life  he  had  an  attack  of  la  grande  passion.  He 
tried  in  every  way  to  make  himself  agreeable  to  Bertha. 

"  Will  you  go  driving  with  me  ?  "  he  asked,  one  morn- 
ing. "  Paris  never  looked  more  beautiful  than  it  will 
to-day.  The  environs  are  even  more  attractive  than  the 
city  Itself." 

"  I  will  ask  the  Countess,"  said  Bertha. 

"  And  so  my  son  wishes  you  to  go  driving  with  him, 
does  he  ?  "  was  the  Countess's  reply  to  Bertha's  ques- 
tion. "  I  have  no  right  to  command  you,  but  my  advice 
is  to  refuse.  Some  people  have  told  me  that  my  son 
is  a  very  bad  young  man.  I  am  not  personally  cog- 
nisant of  his  misdoings,  nor  do  I  wish  to  be,  but  I 
do  not  think  it  best  for  you  to  become  too  well  ac- 
quainted with  him." 

"  I  shall  certainly  do  as  you  say,"  replied  Bertha. 

All  of  the  Count's  attempts  to  make  Bertha  his  com- 
panion were  flat  failures  and  he  decided  to  adopt  an- 
other course.  A  new  opera  was  about  to  be  given. 
The  tickets  were  held  at  extravagant  figures,  but  the 
Count  secured  a  box. 

"Oh,  you  are  musical!"  he  exclaimed,  one  day  as 
he  entered  the  drawing-room  and  found  Bertha  seated 
at  the  piano. 

"  I  play  a  little  for  my  own  amusement,"  said  she. 

"  Have  you  any  objection  to  my  listening  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  at  all !  I  trust  you  will  not  find  it  irk- 
some." 

He  was  extravagant  in  his  praises  of  her  performance, 
but  Bertha  had  learned  to  take  his  remarks  at  their  true 
value. 

He  did  not  ask  Bertha  to  go  to  the  opera  with  him, 
but  invited  his  mother  instead. 

"  I  have  a  box,"  he  said. 


«  LA  GRANDE  PASSION."  83 

"  Are  you  going  to  make  up  a  party  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  I  will  go  with  you." 

"  Have  you  asked  Bertha  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  he  replied.  "  I  have  asked  her  to 
accompany  me  on  several  occasions,  but  she  has  always 
refused;  I  presume  at  your  instigation.  To  speak 
plainly,  I  do  not  care  whether  she  goes  with  us  to  the 
opera  or  not." 

He  knew  that  this  would  pique  his  mother. 

"  Well,  if  Bertha  cannot  go,  I  shall  not  go,"  said 
the  Countess. 

"  If  you  choose  to  ask  her  to  accompany  you,  I  cer- 
tainly shall  not  object,  but,  as  I  said  before,  I  do  not 
care  whether  she  goes  or  not." 

He  did  not  repeat  this  conversation  to  Bertha  and 
the  Countess  herself  was  too  politic  to  refer  to  it. 

Every  day,  thereafter,  the  Count  virtually  haunted 
the  drawing-room  in  the  hope  of  finding  Bertha  at  the 
piano.     On  one  occasion  he  was  successful. 

"  Will  you  not  play  for  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  You  have  heard  my  repertoire." 

"  Do  you  not  sing  ?  " 

"  Very  little ;  only  the  simplest  of  English  ballads." 

He  took  a  piece  of  music  from  the  rack  and  placed 
it  before  her.     "  Can  you  play  that  ?  " 

"  I  can  try." 

"  If  you  will,  I  shall  be  your  debtor." 

"  I  cannot  sing  it." 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  said,  "  but  I  did  not  ask  you  to." 

It  was  a  tenor  song.  Bertha  played  the  prelude,  but 
was  astonished  when  she  struck  the  first  note  of  the 
vocal  score  to  hear  the  Count's  voice  take  up  the  melody. 
He  had  a  pure,  sweet  voice,  and  sang  with  great  power 
and  expression. 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  song ;  do  you  not  think  so  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  Very,"  was  her  laconic  reply. 


94  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  Now,  will  you  not  sing  for  me  one  of  those  English 
ballads?" 

Bertha  had  enjoyed  the  Count's  song,  and  she  felt 
it  would  be  discourteous  to  refuse  under  the  circum- 
stances. 

The  piece  was  a  solo,  but  when  she  had  sung  several 
lines  the  Count  joined  in,  singing  in  English. 

*•  Encore !  Encore ! !  "  he  cried,  and  they  sang  the 
second  stanza  together. 

"  You  must  be  a  good  musician,"  said  Bertha,  "  to 
sing  a  part  so  well  that  is  not  in  the  music." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  there  is  some  good  in  me," 
he  remarked,  gravely.  "  I  am  a  thousand  times  your 
debtor,  Miss  Renville,  both  for  your  singing  and  your 
compliment,  which  I  shall  never  forget." 

The  night  for  the  opera  came,  and  as  the  Count, 
with  his  dark,  handsome  face,  leaned  forward,  from 
time  to  time,  to  discuss  the  performance  with  the  fair- 
haired  English  girl,  scores  of  opera-glasses  were  turned 
in  their  direction.  Count  N'apier  Mont  d'Oro  had 
scored  the  point  for  which  he  had  been  working  so  long 
— he  had  been  seen  in  public  with  the  beautiful  woman 
whom  he  loved,  for  the  time  being  at  least,  and  that 
satisfied  him. 

The  next  day  the  Countess  was  sitting  in  her  boudoir 
reading  the  criticisms  of  the  opera  and  the  perform- 
ance. At  the  close  of  the  article  in  one  of  the  papers 
were  some  items  referring  to  the  prominent  person- 
ages who  were  present  on  the  opening  night.  Her  own 
name  caught  her  eye,  and  she  read  an  item  which  caused 
her  to  clench  her  hands  until  her  finger-nails  almost 
cut  into  the  flesh,  as  she  exclaimed:  "  The  villain!  I 
was  a  fool  to  trust  him."    Then  she  read  the  item  again : 

"  It  is  rumored  that  a  certain  young  Count,  one  of 
the  jeunesse  doree,  and  member  of  a  prominent  Cor- 
sican  family,  has  become  greatly  enamoured  of  a  beauti- 
ful young  English  girl  who  is  visiting  here.    They  wer© 


"LA  GRANDE  PASSION."  96 

seen  together  at  the  opera,  and  if  what  was  apparent 
in  the  past  is  an  indication  of  what  will  take  place  in 
the  future,  Parisian  society  will  be  adorned,  at  no  dis- 
tant date,  by  another  of  England's  fairest  daughters." 

Before  the  Countess  had  recovered  from  the  vexation 
which  the  perusal  of  the  item  had  caused  her,  the  bou- 
doir door  was  suddenly  opened  and  Bertha  ran  into  the 
room.  She  threw  herself  upon  her  knees,  buried  her 
face  in  the  Countess's  lap,  and  burst  into  a  flood  of 
tears. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  my  dear  ?  "  exclaimed  the 
Countess.     "  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  tell  you !  "  cried  Bertha. 

"  But,  really,  you  must,"  said  the  Countess.  "  Who 
in  my  house  has  dared  to  offend  you  ? " 

"  He  did  not  mean  it  as  an  offence — they  never  do — 
but  it  was  so  unexpected — I  have  never  given  him  any 
reason," 

"  Why,  what  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  exclaimed  the 
now  astonished  Countess.  "  Do  be  explicit.  I  have 
just  read  something  in  the  paper  that  has  made  me  very 
angry." 

The  girl  wiped  away  the  tears  from  her  reddened 
eyes  and  said :     "  Why  did  he  do  it  ?  " 

"  Do  what  ?  "  exclaimed  the  Countess.  "  Do  speak, 
or  I  shall  have  to  cry  myself." 

Bertha  began  to  weep  again,  but  through  her  tears  she 
managed  to  say:  "Your  son — the  Count — asked  me 
to  be  his  wife." 

"  Oh,  the  young  scapegrace !  "  said  the  Countess, 
jumping  to  her  feet.  "  Why,  my  dear,  he  is  engaged  to 
another  woman,  where  we  live,  in  Corsica.  You  stay 
here.  I  A\'ill  go  do\^Tistairs  and  have  a  talk  with  him. 
He  shall  leave  the  house  this  very  day." 

"  Oh,  don't  turn  him  out  on  my  account,"  cried  Ber- 
tha. "  Do  not,  my  dear  Coimtess.  I  will  go  instead. 
This  is  his  home  and  I  have  no  right  here." 


96  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  Well,  I  have,"  said  the  Countess,  defiantly.  "  This 
is  my  house,  and  while  I  li%^e  it  has  a  mistress,  but  no 
master." 

The  Countess  soon  discovered  that  her  son  was  in 
the  drawing-room  where  the  avowal  of  love  had  been 
made.  He  was  seated  at  the  piano,  touching  the  keys 
lightly  and  humming  an  air. 

"  So,  my  young  man,"  the  Countess  exclaimed,  "  you 
are  at  your  old  tricks  again." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Count.  "  You  had  me  taught  to 
play  the  piano,  and  I  have  always  loved  it." 

"  You  know  that's  not  what  I  mean.  If  you  would 
give  more  time  to  music  and  less  to  making  love  to 
people  who  do  not  appreciate  it,  it  would  be  better  for 
yourself  and  for  me.  What  did  you  mean  by  insulting 
my  guest  ?  " 

"  Is  it  an  insult,"  he  asked,  "  to  ask  a  young  lady  to 
become  a  Countess  ?  " 

The  Countess  paused.  "  Perhaps  not,"  she  said,  "  if 
you  had  any  right  to  ask  her,  but  you  have  not.  What 
would  you  say  if  I  told  Vivienne  ?  " 

"  I  should  say,"  said  the  Count,  "  what  would,  no 
doubt,  seem  to  be  very  impolite." 

"  You  would  tell  me  to  mind  my  own  business,  I  pre- 
sume," said  the  Countess ;  "  it  is  not  an  uncommon  re- 
mark with  you.  Well,  I  am  going  to  mind  it.  This  is 
my  house  and  I  have  only  allowed  you  to  remain  here 
on  sufferance.  Either  you  or  I  must  go."  She  thought 
for  a  moment  before  she  spoke  again.  "  Yes,  we  will 
go.  Bertha  has  never  seen  the  world  and  I  will  give 
her  an  opportunity.  You  may  stay  in  Paris.  I  shall 
not  tell  you  where  we  are  going,  for,  to  borrow  the 
words  which  you  thought  but  did  not  speak,  I  do  not 
consider  it  is  any  of  your  affair.  If  you  discover 
where  we  are,  and  follow  us,  and  speak  a  word  of 
love  to  my  guest,  or  even  hint  at  it,  I  will  tell  Pascal 
Batistelli." 


"LA  GRANDE  PASSION/'  97 

The  Countess  was  as  good  as  her  word.  On  the  sec- 
ond day  her  preparations  were  completed,  and  on  the 
morning  of  the  third  she  left  Paris,  without  informing 
her  son  as  to  her  destination. 

The  Count  really  felt  his  rejection  severely.  He  had 
been  attracted  to  Bertha  and  as  far  as  it  lay  in  him  to 
feel  affection  for  any  one,  he  really  loved  her.  Night 
after  night  of  dissipation  followed  his  rejection  and  the 
consequent  departure  of  Bertha  from  Paris.  It  was 
nearly  one  o'clock  when  he  returned  home  one  morning. 
His  latch-key  gave  him  admission  to  the  house,  and  he 
would  have  gone  upstairs  at  once  to  his  room  if  he  had 
not  noticed  a  long,  thin  ray  of  light  coming  from  the 
library.  He  went  on  tiptoe  to  the  door  and  listened. 
He  heard  a  sound  like  that  of  a  file  upon  metal.  His 
first  thought  was  that  it  was  a  burglar.  He  was  un- 
armed, but  he  had  a  sturdy  frame  and  a  pair  of  stout 
fists.  He  kicked  the  door  open  violently,  rushed  into 
the  room,  and  pounced  upon  a  man  who  was  on  his 
knees  before  the  safe,  which  contained  the  family  papers 
and  valuables.  He  caught  the  man  by  the  collar  and 
threw  him  violently  upon  his  back. 

"  Ah,  Jacques,  it  is  you,  is  it  ?  What  the  devil  are 
you  up  to  ?  " 

When  the  Countess  left  Paris,  only  three  servants 
were  retained.  These  were  Jacques,  the  coachman; 
Timothee,  the  butler,  or  major  domo;  and  Francine,  the 
cook,  who  was  Timothee's  fiancee.  It  was  but  natural 
that  Timothee  should  spend  his  evenings  in  the  kitchen 
with  Francine,  and  this  fact,  the  Count  quickly  rea- 
soned, was  what  had  given  Jacques  his  opportunity  to 
rob  the  safe. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak,  you  rascal  ? "  cried  the 
Count.     "  Were  you  trying  to  rob  the  safe  ?  " 

The  man  sat  up.  In  one  hand  he  held  a  key  and  in 
the  other  a  small  file.  '*  No,  sir.  Not  quite  so  bad  as 
that.     I  don't  suppose  you  will  believe  me,  but  I  will 


98  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

tell  you  the  truth.  Before  the  young  lady  went  away 
she  gave  me  a  letter  and  said  if  a  certain  young  gentle- 
man called  for  it,  to  give  it  to  him.  I  have  carried  it 
in  my  pocket  so  long  that  it  was  becoming  crumpled 
and  soiled,  and  I  thought  I  would  put  it  in  the  safe. 
I  had  this  key  and  it  nearly  fitted ;  that  is  why  I  was 
filing  it." 

"  I  may  believe  it,"  said  the  Count,  "  but  I  don't 
think  the  judge  will  to-morrow.  But  where's  the  letter  ? 
You  may  get  up." 

Jacques  passed  the  letter  to  the  Count.  The  hand- 
writing was  Bertha's  and  it  was  addressed  to  Mr.  De 
Vinne. 

"  You  may  get  up,"  repeated  the  Count.  "  Give  me 
that  key.  I  will  take  charge  of  the  letter  and  see  that 
it  is  delivered  when  the  young  gentleman  comes  for  it. 
I  don't  believe  a  word  you  have  told  me  except  that 
you  had  the  letter.  Thieves  always  leave  some  loop- 
hole to  crawl  through." 

The  man  went  out.  The  Count  examined  the  safe 
to  see  that  it  was  securely  locked,  and  then  went  up- 
stairs to  his  room. 

"  Mr.  De  Vinne !  I  suppose  he  is  her  English  lover. 
But  why  should  he  come  here  ?  What  a  foolish  ques- 
tion !  Of  course  if  he  knew  she  was  here  he  would  come. 
I  would  go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  to  see  her  if  I  knew 
where  she  had  gone.  Perhaps  this  letter  will  tell.  Well, 
I  have  done  worse  things  than  open  a  letter  addressed 
to  another  man."  As  he  spoke  he  broke  the  seal  and 
read: 

"  My  dear  Mb.  De  Vinne  : 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  of  the  sudden  death  of 
your  brother,  and  you  have  my  deepest  sympathy  in 
your  afiliction.  I  came  here  with  Mrs.  Glynne,  the  wife 
of  Mr.  Clarence  Glynne,  the  son  of  my  guardian.  You 
have,  no  doubt,  heard  that  our  little  craft  was  run  down 


"LA  GRANDE  PASSION."  99 

in  the  Channel  by  a  large  vessel.  By  God's  providence 
we  escaped.  The  vessel  was  under  orders  to  proceed 
at  once  to  Marseilles,  and  we  could  not  land  until  they 
reached  there.  We  arrived  safely  in  Paris  and  I  have 
been  the  guest  of  Countess  Mont  d'Oro.  She  has  in- 
vited me  to  go  with  her  to  her  estate  in  Corsica  and  we 
shall  leave  to-morrow.  She  says  that  a  letter  addressed 
to  Alfieri,  near  Ajaccio,  Corsica,  will  not  fail  of  deliv- 
ery. 

"  Your  friend, 

"Beetha  Renville." 

"  Ha !  "  said  the  Count.  "  A  very  fortunate  find. 
So  they  have  gone  to  Corsica.  Well,  I  have  as  much 
right  to  visit  Corsica  as  they  have  and  I  think  I  will 
go.  Vivienne  says  that  she  does  not  love  me  and  that 
if  I  make  love  to  anybody  else  our  engagement  is  off ; 
but  I  don't  believe  it  will  turn  out  that  way.  Corsican 
women  are  all  jealous.  If  she  finds  that  I  am  flirting 
with  some  one  else,  she  will  probably  b^n  to  love  me 
a  little,  and  if  I  keep  up  the  affair,  in  time  she  may 
become  madly  infatuated.  By  St.  Christopher,  what 
fun  it  will  be,  and  how  my  honoured  mother  will  en- 
joy it." 

The  next  day  there  was  a  violent  storm  of  wind 
and  rain.  The  Count  did  not  venture  out.  "  I  will 
get  ready  for  my  visit  to  Corsica,"  he  said  to  himself. 
About  noon  he  was  summoned  by  Timothee,  who  said 
a  gentleman  wished  to  see  him  in  the  library. 

The  visitor  was  a  stout  man  with  a  full,  round  face, 
made  even  fuller  and  rounder  by  a  thick  beard. 

"  I  wish  to  see  the  Countess  Mont  d'Oro." 

"  I  regret  to  say,  sir,  that  she  is  absent  from  the  city. 
I  am  Count  Mont  d'Oro,  her  son." 

"  Is  Miss  Renville  here  ?  "  was  the  next  inquiry. 

"  She  has  been  my  mother's  guest — they  have  gone 
together." 


100  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that,"  said  the  stout  man.  "  I 
am  Mr.  Thomas  Glynne,  of  Buckhohne,  in  Berkshire. 
I  am  the  young  lady's  guardian.  She  ran  away  from 
home  with  the  intention,  I  think,  of  marrying  a  chance 
acquaintance — an  unworthy  young  man — and  I  have 
come  to  Paris  to  take  her  home  with  me  as  I  have  a 
right  to  do,  under  the  law." 

"  Who  is  this  unworthy  young  man  ? "  asked  the 
Count. 

"  His  name  is  De  Vinne." 

"  I  judge,"  said  the  Count,  "  from  something  I  have 
heard,  that  she  is  in  love  with  him.  I  know  that  she 
writes  to  him  and  that  she  was  expecting  him  here  be- 
fore she  left  Paris." 

"  Shall  I  presume  too  much  upon  your  kindness," 
said  Mr.  Glynne,  "  if  I  ask  you  where  my  ward  has 
gone  ?  " 

The  Count  did  not  answer  the  question.  "  You  say, 
Mr.  Glynne,  that  your  ward  and  this  young  man  were 
but  chance  acquaintances;  why  is  he  so  anxious  to 
marry  her — because  she  is  beautiful,  because  she  is  rich, 
or  both?" 

Mr.  Glynne  thought  that  the  truth  might  improve  his 
position.  "  She  has  a  large  fortune  in  her  own  right — 
forty  thousand  pounds  in  our  money;  about  a  million 
francs  in  yours." 

The  Count  gave  a  long,  low  whistle.  "  Excuse  me, 
sir,"  he  said,  "  but  that  would  make  a  fine  dowry." 

"  If  Mr.  De  Vinne  comes  to  Paris,  I  presume  you 
will  tell  him  where  my  ward  has  gone  ?  " 

"  Well,  really,  I  do  not  think  I  shall,"  said  the  Count. 
"  The  information  came  into  my  possession  in  rather 
a  peculiar  manner  and  I  must  protect  the  person  who 
gave  it  to  me.  You  will  be  surprised,  sir,  at  something 
I  am  going  to  tell  you.  I  have  met  Miss  Renville  and 
I  have  fallen  in  love  with  her  myself.  I  did  not  know 
at  the  time  that  she  was  wealthy,  but  that  makes  little 


"  LA  GRANDE  PASSION."  101 

difference  to  me;  in  fact,  no  difference  at  all,  for  I 
have  money  enough  of  mj  own  and  would  marry  her 
without  a  dowry  a&  soon  as  with  one.  Who  has  charge 
of  her  fortune  ?  " 

"  I  have,"  answered  Mr.  Glynne. 

"  And  no  doubt  you  would  like  to  keep  it"  The 
Count  smiled  as  he  uttered  the  words.  The  smile  waa 
contagious  and  one  flickered  across  Mr.  Glynne's  fat, 
round  face. 

"  I  should  not  be  human,"  he  replied,  "  if  I  would 
not." 

"  Well,"  said  the  Count,  "  two  heads  are  better  than 
one.  I  will  make  a  bargain  with  you.  If  you  will  give 
your  consent  to  my  marrying  your  ward,  and  will  help 
me  to  bring  about  that  happy  event,  I  will  take  her 
without  a  dowry  and  you  may  keep  the  money.  Is  it 
a  bargain  ?  " 

"  I  must  confess  that  such  a  course  of  action  would  be 
very  agreeable  to  me." 

"  Well,  I  shan't  tell  you,"  said  the  Count,  "  where 
your  ward  is.  I  will  take  you  with  me,  if  you  will  go. 
I  will  leave  you  in  a  place  several  miles  distant  from 
where  I  know  she  is  living,  and  you  must  remain  there 
until  I  have  had  time  to  prosecute  my  suit.  At  the 
critical  moment  I  shall  call  upon  you  for  your  assist- 
ance.    Is  that  plan  satisfactory  to  you  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  said  Mr.  Glynne. 

"  If  Mr.  De  Vinne  comes  to  Paris,"  said  the  Count, 
"  he  will  find  it  difficult  to  ascertain  your  ward's  where- 
abouts. W^e  shall  leave  for  our  destination  to-morrow 
morning ;  in  the  meantime  I  shall  be  pleased  to  have  you 
as  my  guest." 

The  next  day  the  allies  started  upon  their  journey, 
one  influenced  by  thoughts  of  love,  the  other  by  thoughts 
of  gold. 

It  is  an  old  saying  that  the  devil  leaves  his  followers 
half-way.     Even  the  most  astute  of  men  will  do  some 


102  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

foolish  thing  that  upsets  his  plans.  Count  Mont  d'Oro 
was  no  exception  to  the  rule. 

Jacques,  the  coachman,  had  told  the  truth.  He  was 
devoted  to  the  Countess  and  she  trusted  him  implicitly. 
No  sooner  was  Jacques  certain  that  the  Count  had  left 
the  house  than  he  made  his  way  to  his  master's  rooms. 
He  ransacked  them  from  one  end  to  the  other.  "  He 
would  not  take  it  with  him,"  he  soliloquised.  "  Per- 
liaps  he  destroyed  it.  I  have  looked  over  carefully 
everything  that  came  from  his  room,  but  it  was  not 
there.  He  has  had  no  fire  and  he  could  not  have  burned 
it.  Ah!  I  have  not  looked  into  that,"  he  exclaimed, 
as  he  espied  a  square  wooden  box  on  the  top  of  a 
chiffonier.  In  a  moment  it  was  in  his  possession.  It 
was  locked,  but  Jacques  had  brought  a  screw-driver 
with  him  for  possible  use,  and  the  cover  was  soon 
wrenched  off.     It  was  full  of  letters. 

"  He  read  my  letter,"  said  Jacques,  "  I  mil  read 
his."  There  were  daintily  written  and  perfumed  epis- 
tles, love  letters  from  ladies  of  the  haut  ton,  both  mar- 
ried and  single,  who  now  wished,  no  doubt,  that  their 
missives  were  back  in  their  own  hands  or  burned. 
Jacques  threw  them  aside  one  after  another.  "  Bah !  " 
he  exclaimed,  "  what  a  miserable  flirt  he  is.  I  am  so 
sorry  he  caught  me  and  found  out  where  that  beautiful 
young  lady  is  gone ;  but  the  Countess  will  protect  her." 
Suddenly  he  gave  a  cry  of  delight.  At  the  bottom  of 
the  box  was  the  letter  for  which  he  had  been  searching. 

As  fate  willed  it,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day, 
Mr.  Jack  De  Vinne,  heir  to  the  Earldom  of  Noxton, 
presented  himself  at  the  residence  of  Countess  Mont 
d'Oro  in  Paris.  He  had  been  to  Buckholme,  had  seen 
Clarence,  and  learned  from  his  wife  that  Mr.  Thomas 
Glynne  had  gone  to  Paris  in  search  of  his  ward. 

"  He  is  gone  to  bring  her  back,"  said  Jennie.  "  I  do 
not  know  whether  English  law  holds  in  France  or  not, 
but  they  say  possession  is  nine  points  of  the  law,  and  I 


«LA  GRANDE  PASSION."  103 

am  sure  the  Countess  will  not  give  her  up  if  there  is 
any  way  of  keeping  her." 

It  so  happened  that  it  was  the  French  Jacques  who 
admitted  the  English  Jack. 

The  Countess's  faithful  servitor  placed  the  letter  in 
the  hands  of  the  one  for  whom  it  was  intended,  ex- 
plaining, as  best  he  could,  how  it  came  to  be  opened. 

"  The  Count  and  a  big,  stout  man  went  away  this 
very  morning.  They  may  have  gone  to  Corsica,  but  I 
do  not  know." 

Jack  felt  sure  that  they  had,  and  the  next  morning 
he  was  on  his  way  thither. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

A    COESICAN    CHANT. 

If  one  could  rise  in  the  air  like  a  bird  and  look 
down  upon  the  island  of  Corsica,  he  might  think  that 
he  saw  before  him  the  petrified  skeleton  of  some  great 
marine  monster.  From  north  to  south,  through  the 
centre  of  the  island,  runs  a  ridge  of  mountains  resem- 
bling a  spinal  column,  while  upon  either  side  of  this 
central  ridge  branch  a  number  of  shorter  parallel  ridges 
bearing  a  close  resemblance  to  the  ribs  of  such  an  ani- 
mal. In  each  of  these  valleys,  near  the  central  ridge, 
are  the  sources  of  small  rivers  which  run  east  or  west, 
as  the  case  may  be,  into  the  Mediterranean  Sea.  The 
banks  are  composed  of  alluvial  soil,  and,  for  that  reason, 
near  the  sea  the  rivers  widen  out,  covering  large  areas 
of  land  which  become  marshes,  full,  at  certain  seasons 
of  the  year,  of  pestilential  vapours,  the  cause  of  disease 
and  death  among  the  inhabitants.  The  sides  of  the 
mountains  and  the  borders  of  the  adjacent  ravines  are 
covered  by  dense  masses  of  shrubbery  and  groves  or 
forests  of  trees.  In  Australia,  the  outlaw,  fleeing  from 
justice,  takes  refuge  in  "  the  bush,"  from  which  cir- 
cumstance he  has  derived  the  characteristic  name  of 
"  bushranger."  On  the  other  hand,  the  Corsican  out- 
laws or  banditti  take  refuge,  when  pursued  by  the  offi- 
cers of  the  law,  in  the  maquis,  which,  in  the  Corsican 
vernacular,  has  the  same  meaning  as  the  Australian 
"  bush." 

In  one  of  the  deepest  of  the  ravines  on  the  western 
side  of  the  central  ridge  of  mountains  which  traverses 
the  island  of  Corsica,  a  band  of  some  twenty  men  was 

104 


A  CORSICAN  CHANT.  lOo 

assembled.  Thej  were  nondescript  in  appearance,  each 
being  dressed  after  a  fashion  of  his  own,  although  there 
was  one  point  of  resemblance  between  them,  for  each 
was  armed  with  a  rifle,  had  a  pair  of  pistols  in  his  belt, 
and  a  closer  examination  would  have  revealed  a  stiletto 
hidden  away  beneath  the  folds  of  his  shirt  or  jacket. 
They  were  what  they  appeared  to  be — Corsican  ban- 
ditti or,  in  other  words,  outlaws — men  wanted  by  the 
police — chiefly  for  murder. 

And  yet  they  were  different  from  the  usual  banditti 
which  infest  Corsica,  as  a  closer  acquaintance  with 
their  leader  will  soon  determine.  He  was  a  man  of 
gigantic  stature  and  the  possessor  of  great  physical 
strength.  He  was  seated  apart  from  the  members  of 
his  band  in  company  with  his  lieutenant,  a  man  much 
smaller  in  size,  but  muscular  and  agile,  as  a  natural  re- 
sult of  a  continual  outdoor  life. 

The  leader  was  called  Cromillian.  !N"o  one  of  his 
band  supposed  that  this  was  his  real  name,  but  he 
offered  no  explanation  and  none  was  asked.  He  had 
suddenly  appeared  in  Corsica,  gathered  a  band  of 
trusted  followers,  and  for  a  year  had  carried  on  a  pe- 
culiar system  of  brigandage.  As  the  plan  followed  by 
him  supplied  his  adherents  with  the  means  of  subsist- 
ence, they  ventured  no  criticism  of  his  peculiar  manner 
of  doing  business,  although  they  often  wondered  among 
tliemselves  as  to  what  the  final  outcome  of  it  would 
be. 

The  lieutenant's  name  was  Paoli,  and,  although  next 
in  command  to  Cromillian,  he  had  no  clearer  idea  of  his 
leader's  ultimate  object  than  had  the  other  members  of 
the  band.  The  wild,  roving  life  suited  him  and  he  was 
content  to  remain  where  he  was,  for  he  had  long  ago 
forfeited  his  rights  as  a  law-abiding  citizen  and  was  a 
marked  man  in  the  eyes  of  the  emissaries  of  the  law. 

It  is  a  natural  characteristic  of  some  people,  when 
they  have  nothing  else  to  do,  to  think  of  the  present 


106  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

or  to  look  forward  to  the  future ;  but  a  Corsican,  when 
he  has  time  for  contemplation,  always  reverts  to  the  past. 
When  he  recalls  it,  he  does  not  dwell  upon  its  pleasant 
features,  but,  if  possible,  fastens  his  thoughts  upon 
some  real  or  imaginary  wrong  which  he  fancies  his  an- 
cestors or  his  friends  have  suffered. 

An  American  Indian,  when  contemplating  an  attack 
upon  his  enemies,  precedes  active  hostilities  by  singing 
a  war  song,  and  the  Corsican  unconsciously  resembles 
him  by  singing,  or  rather  chanting,  a  recital  of  past 
wrongs  or  injuries,  followed  by  a  unique  vocal  declara- 
tion of  his  intention  to  secure  reparation  or  execute 
vengeance  for  such  acts. 

The  Corsicans  are  strong  partisans.  They  not  only 
take  part  in  the  feuds  with  which  their  o^vn  families 
are  connected,  but  embrace  the  causes  of  other  families 
to  which  they  are  not  related,  but  to  which,  for  some 
reason  or  other,  they  become  attached. 

Paoli  sat  upon  a  log,  his  hands  tightly  clasped  to- 
gether, gazing  up  at  the  sky  through  a  rift  in  the 
branches  of  the  trees.  There  was  a  wild  look  in  his 
eye,  such  as  might  be  seen  in  those  of  some  religious 
devotee.  Suddenly,  as  though  under  the  influence  of 
some  magic  power  or  spell,  he  found  voice.  The  words 
of  his  chant,  or  vocero,  as  it  is  called  by  the  Corsicans, 
certainly  boded  no  good  fortune  to  a  person  named  Van- 
demar,  vpho  was  referred  to  therein : 

"  Place  on  the  wall  before  my  bed  my  cross  of  honour 
well  gained.  To  my  eons,  my  sons  in  a  far  country, 
convey  my  cross  and  bloody  vest  He,  my  first-bom, 
will  see  the  rents — for  each  rent,  a  rent  in  another  shirt, 
a  wound  in  another's  heart!  Vengeance!  The  hour 
of  vengeance  is  nigh !  Make  ready  his  bed  in  the  valley 
of  skulls.  He  conijes,  the  last  of  his  race,  but  he  comes 
to  his  couch  with  a  stain  on  his  shroud,  only  to  die.  The 
vendetta,  the  spirit  of  vendetta  is  awake;  it  has  slept 
too  long.    Blood  for  blood !    The  noble  house  of  Batis- 


A  CORSICAN  CHANT.  107 

telli  no  longer  shall  bear  the  dread  reproach  of  rimbec- 
care.  The  stain  shall  now  be  washed  away  in  blood. 
Vandemar  Delia  Coscia  must  die !  " 

Cromillian's  attention  had  been  attracted  by  the  first 
words  of  the  chant  and  he  listened  intently  to  the  im- 
provisatore.  When  Paoli  ceased,  he  turned  and  ap- 
proached him: 

"  Thy  heart  rebukes  thee  whilst  thou  singest  There 
are  whispers  of  other  orgies  than  those  thou  hast  sung. 
I,  too,  can  improvise.  Now  listen,  Paoli,  and  remember 
that  I  never  chant  the  ancient  gabble  of  old  women  and 
silly  girls.  I  will  make  my  own  songs  and,  better  still, 
I  will  make  them  come  true,  every  word  true.  Listen, 
and  be  sure  that  you  do  not  forget 

"  The  noble  young  Vandemar  returns,  returns  to  his 
native  mountains,  to  the  home  of  his  childhood,  to  the 
friends  who  have  waited  so  long  to  embrace  him.  But 
no  sooner  do  his  feet  touch  the  shores,  the  green  banks 
of  his  early  home,  than  the  hungry  vultures  are  on  his 
track  eager  to  drink  the  red  blood  in  his  veins.  But 
the  eagle  will  turn  to  defend  his  life.  He  will  not 
die.  The  death  song  will  resound  for  his  enemies,  the 
vengeful  tribe  of  the  Batistellis.  Even  this  clown,  this 
fool  Paoli,  will  change  the  tone  of  his  song,  ere  long! 
Ere  long ! !  " 

Paoli  took  his  chief's  words  pleasantly.  "  Hold  on !  " 
he  cried.  "  Don't  you  know  that  they  have  an  adage 
among  the  French :  '  Never  hit  a  man  when  he  is 
down '  ?  "     As  he  said  this,  he  arose : 

"  I  am,  as  you  well  know,  a  descendant  of  the  great 
Paoli,  at  whose  name  all  Corsica  thriUed,  a  just  man, 
and  the  most  distinguished  general  in  the  world." 

"  It  is  a  great  pity,"  said  Cromillian,  sarcastically, 
"  that  he  is  not  living,  and  here  to  give  advice  to  his 
kinsman.  I  know  not  whether  it  is  an  adage,  but  it  is 
a  well-known  fact  that  the  sons  and  grandsons  of  great 
men  seldom  resemble  them." 


108  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  Your  wits  are  too  much  for  me,"  said  Paoli,  "  but 
please  have  the  grace  to  hear  me  out.  It  was  a  maxim 
of  my  ilhistrious  ancestor  that  every  citizen  should  con- 
stitute himself  a  soldier  and  defend  his  rights  by  force 
of  arms,  ^ot  to  avenge  wrongs  committed  against  one's 
o\vn  blood  or  that  of  his  friends,  has  always  been 
deemed  by  the  Corsicans  to  denote  a  coward.  I  am  a 
true  son  of  Corsica  and,  for  that,  you  call  me  a  clown, 
a  fool.  If  you  and  I  were  not  sworn  friends,  there 
might  be  cause  for  a  coolness  between  us.  Heed  this 
now,  and  say  whether  I  was  right  or  wrong. 

"  My  dearest  friend,  Antonio  Marcelli,  had  a  beauti- 
ful sister,  Vinetta.  A  man  from  Bastia,  named  Ossa 
d'Oria,  came  to  Ajaccio.  He  was  young  and  handsome, 
and  reputed  to  be  a  single  man.  Young  Vinetta  was 
misled  by  him  and,  to  conceal  her  shame,  committed 
suicide.  I  wrote  to  Antonio,  but  he  was  down  sick  with 
a  fever  and  unable  to  return  to  Corsica.  I  made  my 
friend's  cause  my  own  and  went  to  Bastia.  I  found 
that  I  was  to  be  deprived  of  a  sweet  revenge,  for  the 
scoundrel  had  been  drowned  while  bathing.  His  father 
was  dead  and  he  had  no  brothers  or  near  relatives. 
But  he  had  a  wife.    What  was  I  to  do  ?  " 

"  That  was  embarrassing,"  Cromillian  remarked. 
"What  did  you  do?" 

"  This  was  one  of  the  cases,"  answered  Paoli,  "  where 
the  flint  of  your  gun  must  serve  you.  I  put  a  ball 
through  the  head  of  the  wife.  That  is  what  I  call  good 
old  Corsican  justice.  Then  I  took  to  the  mountains, 
and  here  I  am,  a  jolly  bandit  like  yourself." 

Cromillian  turned  upon  him,  savagely :  "  You  call 
that  justice  ?  I  call  it  murder !  Cold-blooded  murder ! ! 
This  savage  custom  of  vengeance  executed  upon  rela- 
tives for  wrongs  committed  by  an  ancestor,  the  lives 
of  sons  sacrificed  for  fancied  wrongs  alleged  against 
fathers,  has  been  the  curse  and  blight  of  Corsica  for 
the  last  five  hundred  years.    The  vendetta,  that  hydra- 


A  CORSICAN  CHANT.  109 

headed  monster,  strikes  its  fangs  deep  into  the  heart 
of  every  Corsican  child  before  it  is  able  to  lisp  its  own 
name.  Mothers  lull  their  babies  to  sleep  crooning  the 
death  song,  nurses  inflame  their  young  imaginations 
with  frightful  stories  of  blood,  revenge,  and  death.  It 
has  grouTi  with  their  growth,  strengthened  with  their 
strength,  until  to-day  we  stand  before  the  world  distin- 
guished only  as  being  the  most  savage,  the  most  barbar- 
ous people  upon  the  face  of  this  fair  earth." 

"  Do  they  say  that  of  us  ?  "  asked  Paoli. 

"  Listen !  "  said  Cromillian,  "  I  read  in  an  old  news- 
paper when  I  was  in  France  that  if  the  island  of  Cor- 
sica could  vomit  forth  all  the  blood  which  has  been 
poured  out  upon  its  soil,  in  the  course  of  time,  in  the 
vendetta  and  on  the  field  of  battle,  it  would  overwhelm 
its  cities  and  villages,  drown  its  people,  and  crimson 
the  sea  from  its  shores  to  Genoa.  Six  hundred  and 
sixty-six  thousand  slain  by  the  hand  of  the  assassin 
alone !    Dost  like  the  picture  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Paoli,  "  what  are  we  going  to  do  about 
it  ?    We  take  up  life  where  our  fathers  left  it." 

"  There  is  going  to  be  a  change,  a  reformation!  " 
cried  Cromillian.  "  I,  with  my  single  arm,  with  the 
help  of  God,  will  commence  the  work.  There  will, 
necessarily,  be  much  bloodshed  at  first — there  always 
has  been  in  every  case  where  great  evils  were  to  be 
overcome.  My  life  will  be  sacrificed,  but  it  will  be  in 
a  good  and  merciful  cause,  and  when  I  shall  have  done 
my  work,  some  other  man  will  take  it  up  just  where 
I  leave  it,  and  so  it  will  go  on  until  your  children's  chil- 
dren and  mine  may  be  able  to  look  a  civilised  man  in 
the  face." 

"  Are  vou  in  earnest  ?  "  asked  Paoli.  "  Do  you  mean 
it?" 

"Mean  it!  "  cried  Cromillian.  "Why  did  I  leave 
a  comfortable  home  in  England,  where  I  lived  like  a 
gentleman,  to  come  here  and  turn  bandit?    Was  it  to 


110  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

plunder,  to  rob,  to  execute  vengeance?  Answer  me, 
Paoli.  Why  am  I  a  voluntary  outlaw,  destined  to  know 
no  other  home  on  earth  but  that  which  the  clefts  in  the 
rocks  and  mountains  or  the  maquis  afford  me?  Say, 
is  it  to  rob,  think  you  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  not  that,  surely !  "  cried  Paoli.  "  I  have 
been  with  you  for  a  year  and  I  know  that  you  have  only 
taken  from  the  rich  in  order  to  give  to  the  poor.  I 
know  you  have  so  frightened  several  who  had  declared 
the  vendetta  and  were  on  the  tracks  of  their  would-be 
victims  that  they  have  given  up  the  pursuit.  I  have 
seen  what  you  have  done,  although  I  could  not  under- 
stand your  method.  But  what  is  to  be  our  next  work, 
if  it  is  not  an  impertinent  question  ?  " 

Cromillian  eyed  his  interrogator  closely :  "  Well," 
he  said  finally,  "  you  have,  undoubtedly,  heard  the  ru- 
mour that  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia  is  to  visit  his  native 
land,  which  he  has  not  seen  since  he  was  a  child." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that,"  said  Paoli,  "  and  I  know  that 
the  Batistellis  will  declare  the  vendetta  against  him  if 
he  dares  to  come.  ITow,  my  father  was  a  friend  of 
Conrad  Batistelli,  and  I  am  a  friend  of  the  brothers, 
Pascal  and  Julien.  I  gave  my  word  to  my  father  on  his 
death-bed  that  I  would  be  true  to  the  Batistellis,  and 
their  cause  is  my  cause.  If  Pascal  and  Julien  declare 
that  Vandemar  must  die,  I  shall  aid  them.  If  I  do  not, 
I  shall  be  false  to  the  oath  given  to  my  father." 

"  You  can  do  as  you  please,"  replied  Cromillian, 
"  but,  from  what  I  have  told  you,  you  know  that  I  shall 
consider  it  my  duty  to  protect  Vandemar  from  the  Bat- 
istellis, and  from  you.  Besides,  how  do  you  know  that 
Manuel  Delia  Coscia  killed  Conrad  Batistelli  ?  " 

"  Why,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  it !  "  cried  Paoli. 
"  Was  not  Conrad  found  in  his  own  field,  stabbed  to  the 
heart  by  a  stiletto,  upon  the  handle  of  which  were  found 
the  initials  of  Manuel  Delia  Coscia?  And  did  he  not 
confess  his  guilt  by  fleeing  from  the  island,  taking  his 


A  CORSICAN  CHANT.  Ill 

little  son  with  him  ?  I  cannot  understand  why  Vande- 
mar  can  have  the  temerity  to  return  to  Corsica  when 
the  case  against  his  father  and  himself  is  so  strong. 
He  simply  invites  the  doom  which  surely  awaits  him." 

"  I  do  not  think  he  comes  for  any  such  reason," 
said  Cromillian.  "  I  think  the  result  of  his  visit  will  be 
to  show  that  his  father  was  innocent  of  that  crime  and 
that  the  Batistellis  have  no  cause  for  enmity  against 
him." 

"  He  will  have  no  time  to  prove  that,"  answered 
Paoli.  "  As  soon  as  the  Batistelli  brothers  know  that 
he  is  in  Corsica,  his  death  will  be  but  a  question  of  a  few 
hours." 

"  But  supposing  they  do  not  know  him  ?  "  said  Cro- 
millian.    "  Supposing  they  do  not  recognise  him  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  that  I  should  know  him,"  replied  Paoli. 
"  I  knew  his  father  well,  and  the  sons  of  Corsicans  too 
closely  resemble  their  fathers  to  render  his  recognition 
improbable." 

"  I  am  not  a  rich  man,  as  you  know,"  said  Cro- 
millian, "  but  I'll  wager  ten  louis  d'or,  Paoli,  that,  if 
you  saw  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia,  you  would  not  know 
him." 

"  But  if  I  do,"  cried  Paoli,  "  and  I  point  him  out 
to  the  Batistellis,  do  I  get  the  ten  louis  d'or  ?  " 

"  If  you  point  him  out  to  me  first,"  said  Cromillian, 
"  you  will  get  the  ten  louis  d'or.  If  you  point  him  out 
to  anybody  else,  what  you  will  get  will  be  determined 
hereafter.    Is  it  a  wager  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  is,"  cried  Paoli,  and  the  men  shook  hands. 

Paoli  could  not  refrain  from  referring  again  to  the 
vendetta  between  the  Batistellis  and  the  Delia  Coscias. 

"  The  Batistellis  are  rich  and  powerful,"  he  began, 
"  and  who  is  there  so  bold  as  to  think  of  contending 
against  them  ?  " 

"  I  dare !  "  cried  Cromillian.  "  I  will  shed  every 
drop  of  my  blood  to  prevent  such  diabolical  injustice." 


112  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  But  not  with  your  single  arm  ?  "  questioned  Paoli. 
"  None  could  be  found  rash  enough  to  join  you  in  so 
mad  a  scheme." 

"  Yes,  one  will,"  answered  Cromillian,  "  one  who  is 
trusty  and  true — my  Protector !  " 

"  Your  Protector  ?  "  Paoli  asked,  inquiringly. 

"  There  is  my  Protector,"  said  Cromillian,  pointing 
to  his  gun,  "  a  double-barrelled  orator  who  preaches  the 
gospel  right  into  a  man  every  time.  Of  what  use  are 
the  tongues  of  a  hundred  missionaries  ?  When  the  gos- 
pel is  preached  in  Corsica  to-day,  it  must  spring  from 
the  muzzle  of  a  gun  or  the  point  of  a  stiletto ;  it  must 
be  forced  into  the  people  with  leaden  balls  or  shining 
steel.  Come  to  my  heart,  faithful  guardian !  "  As 
he  spoke,  he  embraced  his  weapon  with  fervour :  "  Thou 
wilt  be  true  to  poor  Corsica,  and  to  me,  defender  of  the 
right,  protector  of  the  innocent,  friend  of  the  poor,  mer- 
ciful to  the  just,  who  smiteth  only  to  bless.  Dear  God- 
dess, I  love  thee !  Swear  that  thou  wilt  be  true  to  me ; 
speak,  let  me  hear  thy  voice."  Raising  his  weapon,  he 
discharged  both  barrels.  Then  he  continued :  "  Sweeter 
to  my  ears  is  thy  voice  than  the  cooing  of  doves." 

On  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  and  at  about  the 
same  hour  at  which  the  colloquy  had  taken  place  be- 
tween Cromillian  and  his  lieutenant.  Countess  Mont 
d'Oro  and  Bertha  had  come  to  what  was  called,  by  the 
inhabitants  of  Alfieri,  Mont  d'Oro  Castle. 

It  is  usually  dispiriting  to  arrive  late  in  the  after- 
noon at  a  house  with  which  you  have  previously  been  un- 
acquainted. The  glorious  morning  sun  is  needed  to 
bring  out  local  beauties  and  points  of  interest  which 
escape  the  attention  when  day  is  waning.  Besides, 
Bertha  was  weary  and  nervous.  The  passage  from 
Marseilles  to  Ajaccio  had  been  made  upon  a  sailing 
vessel,  the  accommodations  of  which  were  far  from  pala- 
tial.    To  add  to  their  discomfiture,  a  storm  had  over- 


A  CORSICAN  CHANT.  113 

taken  them  and  the  qualms  of  seasickness  had  been 
added  to  their  other  troubles.  Again,  the  ride  from 
Ajac^io  to  Alfieri  had  been  made  in  a  tumble-down 
vehicle  over  a  rough  road,  and  the  Countess  declared 
that  every  bone  in  her  body  was  aching  when  she  reached 
home.  To  this  remark  Bertha  silently  assented,  for  she 
said  to  herself  that  if  the  Countess  felt  any  worse  than 
she  did,  she  must  be  miserable  indeed. 

There  being  no  actual  head  to  the  household  during 
the  Countess's  absence,  it  was  in  a  most  disordered  con- 
dition at  the  time  of  their  arrival,  and  considerable  time 
passed  before  the  energetic  orders  of  the  mistress  se- 
cured a  semblance  of  household  unity  and  led  to  the 
preparation  of  a  supper  for  the  weary  travellers. 

Bertha  retired  early  to  her  room.  It  was  comfortable, 
even  cosey,  being  located  upon  the  third  floor  in  one  of 
those  towers  which  are  characteristic  features  of  Cor- 
sican  architecture.  It  was  with  a  feeling  of  great  re- 
lief that  Bertha  threw  herself  upon  the  couch ;  but  she 
could  not  sleep.  After  a  long  period  of  wakefulness 
and  tossing,  she  arose  and  went  to  the  latticed  window. 
The  moon  was  shining  brightly.  She  opened  the  lattice 
and  looked  out  upon  the  beautiful  grounds  which  sur- 
rounded the  castle. 

Suddenly,  she  started  back.  A  high  hedge  divided 
the  grounds  belonging  to  the  Mont  d'Oro  estate  from 
that  adjoining,  but,  from  her  elevated  position,  she 
commanded  a  full  view  of  the  grounds  of  the  neighbor- 
ing estate.  The  house  was  fully  as  imposing  as  that  of 
Countess  Mont  d'Oro;  in  fact,  more  so,  for  while  the 
Mont  d'Oro  mansion  was  built  of  wood,  the  one  upon 
which  she  was  now  gazing  was  constructed  of  stone 
and  seemed,  as  it  was,  a  much  more  substantial  build- 
ing. 

But  it  was  not  the  building  which  had  attracted  her 
attention,  although  it  presented  an  imposing  appear- 
ance, lighted  by  the  moon,  with  the  portions  in  shadow 


114  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

accentuating  the  sharp  contrasts.  "No,  what  caught  her 
eye  and  riveted  her  attention  was  the  figure  of  a  young 
girl  dressed  in  white,  who,  standing  in  the  moonlight, 
looked  like  some  spirit  rather  than  a  human  being. 
Bertha  partially  closed  the  lattice,  leaving  only  a  nar- 
row space  through  which  she  could  watch  the  strange 
figure,  which  stood  motionless.  She  could  not  see  the 
girl's  face,  for  it  was  turned  in  the  opposite  direction 
and  her  dark  hair,  which  was  unfastened,  shrouded  even 
the  side  of  her  face  from  view. 

It  seemed  a  long  time  to  Bertha  that  she  sat  there 
and  watched  the  motionless  figure.  Suddenly,  the 
sound  of  a  voice  fell  upon  her  ear.  She  listened  and, 
although  she  could  not  understand  the  words,  she  knew 
by  the  melody  and  the  maimer  in  which  the  song  was 
sung  that  it  was  a  boisterous  drinking  song.  The  voice 
came  nearer,  and  soon  the  figure  of  a  man  entered  the 
grounds  where  the  young  girl  stood.  At  sight  of  him, 
she  started  forward  with  a  glad  cry  which  was  distinctly 
audible  to  Bertha.  Had  she  been  waiting  for  a  lover  ? 
The  figure  in  white  approached  the  man  and  threw  her 
arms  about  his  neck,  but,  to  Bertha's  surprise,  the  man 
repelled  her  advances,  pushing  her  away  from  him  with 
such  violence  that  she  fell  to  the  ground. 

Bertha  started  to  her  feet,  full  of  indignation.  It 
seemed  as  though  she  must  go  to  the  assistance  of  the 
young  girl  who  had  been  so  cruelly  treated.  She  quickly 
realised  the  impossibility  of  such  an  action  on  her  part 
and,  resuming  her  seat,  watched  to  see  what  would 
happen.  The  young  girl  rose  slowly  to  her  feet  and  dis- 
appeared within  a  doorway.  The  man,  whoever  he  was, 
was  evidently  so  intoxicated  as  to  be  unable  to  maintain 
a  standing  position,  for,  after  several  efforts  to  reach  the 
door  through  which  the  young  girl  had  gone,  he  lost  his 
balance  and  fell  prone  to  the  ground.  A  few  minutes 
later,  the  girl  emerged  from  the  doorway,  accompanied 
by  an  old  man  and  an  old  woman,  and  by  their  combined 


A  CORSICAN  CHANT.  116 

efforts  the  drunken  man  was  taken  into  the  house,  and 
the  door  closed  behind  them. 

The  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  while  sitting  in 
the  Countess's  boudoir.  Bertha  could  not  refrain  from 
giving  an  account  of  what  she  had  seen  the  previous 
night. 

"  Oh,  that  is  a  common  occurrence,"  said  the  Count- 
ess. "  The  girl  whom  you  saw  was  Vivienne  Batistelli. 
The  drunken  man  was  her  younger  brother,  Julien,  who 
is  going  to  the  bad  very  fast,  they  say.  Her  elder 
brother,  Pascal,  is  very  correct  in  his  habits,  although 
of  a  very  bitter  and  revengeful  disposition.  Julien  is 
a  happy-go-lucky  sort  of  fellow,  intent  upon  having  a 
good  time.  As  is  often  the  case,  the  sister  has  no  love 
for  her  elder  brother,  but  bestows  it  all  upon  this  young 
profligate.  I  used  to  do  the  same  when  my  son  was 
young. 

"  For  a  time,  I  thought  he  could  do  no  wrong,  no 
matter  how  badly  he  acted,  but  when  he  showed  such 
complete  disregard  for  my  wishes,  when  he  told  me 
plainly  that  he  intended  to  do  as  he  pleased,  no  matter 
what  I  said  or  what  I  wished,  there  came  a  revulsion. 
Although  I  am  his  mother,  I  am  not  ashamed  to  say 
that  instead  of  loving  him,  I  came  to  hate  the  sight  of 
him,  and  am  never  happy  when  he  is  near  me.  He  is 
virtually  betrothed,  with  the  consent  of  her  brother  Pas- 
cal, to  this  Vivienne  Batistelli,  but  that  would  make 
no  difference  to  him  if  he  saw  another  young  face  that 
pleased  him.    He  is  a  consummate  flirt,  if  no  worse, 

"  I  sincerely  hope  that  nothing  will  happen  to  bring 
him  here  to  Corsica ;  but  if  he  does  come,  he  will  find 
that  I  am  mistress  of  this  castle,  and  that  he  cannot 
remain  in  it,  unless  with  my  permission." 


CHAPTEK   Xn. 

CEOMILLIAN,    THE    MORAL    BANDIT. 

When  Cromillian  uttered  his  fervent  invocation  to 
his  gun  and  then  discharged  both  barrels  into  the 
air,  he  may  have  thought  that  his  lieutenant,  Paoli, 
would  have  signified  his  allegiance  to  the  cause,  and  his 
endorsement  of  the  sentiments  expressed  by  a  similar 
declaration,  and  an  equally  vociferous  attestation,  but 
if  such  a  thought  was  in  Cromillian's  mind,  he  was 
destined  to  be  disappointed.  The  lieutenant  evinced 
no  surprise  at  Cromillian's  procedure  and  said  nothing. 

Cromillian's  next  speech  was  a  marked  drop  to  the 
commonplace : 

"  I  wonder  where  Lulie  is  ?  She  was  to  bring  some 
food  for  us  to  this  place.  If  she  does  not  come,  we  shall 
have  to  share  with  the  others.  There  is  a  savoury  smell 
in  the  air,  so  I  think  we  shall  not  go  hungry." 

Cromillian's  favourite  haunt  in  the  ravine  was  only 
about  five  miles  from  Alfieri,  but  this  fact  was,  of 
course,  unknovsm  to  the  villagers,  who  seldom  came  in 
that  direction.  A  band  of  four  shepherds,  however, 
in  search  of  some  stray  sheep,  was  unconsciously  with- 
in a  short  distance  of  Cromillian's  camp  at  the  time 
he  was  waiting  for  the  appearance  of  Lulie. 

The  search  for  the  sheep  was  unsuccessful  and  the 
shepherds,  inwardly  cursing  their  luck,  were  on  their 
way  homeward. 

"  They  are  probably  at  the  bottom  of  the  river,  or 
perhaps  they  have  gone  up  the  mountain,"  said  one  of 
the  men. 

"  Perhaps,"  replied  another ;  "  but  I  am  inclined  to 
116 


CROMILLIAN,  THE  MORAL  BANDIT.    117 

think  that  some  of  Cromillian's  band  came  across  them 
and  we  shall  never  see  or  hear  of  them  again." 

The  second  speaker  was  right  Three  of  the  carcasses 
were  hanging  from  the  limb  of  a  tree  where  Cromil- 
lian's band  was  encamped,  while  the  other  had  given, 
forth  the  savoury  smell  which  had  been  noticed  by  Cro- 
millian. 

The  second  speaker  went  on :  "  Corsicana  used  to  be 
considered  brave  men,  but  we  might  as  well  call  our- 
selves cowards  if  we  much  longer  allow  this  Cromillian 
and  his  band  to  lord  it  over  us,  and  tell  us  what  we  shall 
do  and  what  we  shall  not  do." 

"  What  has  Cromillian  done  to  you  ?  "  asked  the 
first  speaker.  "  Perhaps  we  have  more  reason  to  com- 
plain than  you  have.  I  do  not  think  I  am  a  coward, 
but  when  it  comes  to  dealing  with  Cromillian,  I  think 
discretion  is  the  better  part  of  valour.  But  what  has 
he  done  to  you  ?  " 

"  I^othing,  yet,"  the  other  replied ;  "  but  I  suppose 
my  time  will  come.  He  knows  I  have  some  property 
and  that  when  a  man  owes  me  money  I  follow  it  up  until 
I  get  it.  If  a  man  has  money  or  property,  Cromillian 
eeem^  to  be  his  natural  enemy.  Why,  it  was  only  day 
before  yesterday  that  old  Lamont  showed  me  a  note 
he  had  received  from  Cromillian.  It  was  short  and  to 
the  point :  '  Send  the  Widow  Nafilet  a  bag  of  flour 
and  a  quarter  of  beef.'  This  impudent  piece  of  paper 
was  signed  '  Cromillian.'  " 

"  What  did  old  Lamont  do  ?  "  asked  the  first  speaker. 
"  Did  he  tear  the  letter  in  pieces  and  teU  Cromillian 
to  go  to  the  devil  ?  " 

"  Hardly,"  was  the  reply.  "  He  did  not  tell  me  what 
he  did,  but  Jean  said  that  within  fifteen  minutes  after 
he  got  the  letter,  Lamont  told  him  to  take  the  flour  and 
beef  over  to  the  widow  as  soon  as  possible." 

The  first  speaker  laughed :  "  Yes,  and  I  think  if 
you  had  received  the  letter  you  would  have  done  just  as 


118  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

old  Lamont  did.  I  had  the  honour,  about  six  months 
ago,  to  receive  a  note  from  Cromillian,  commanding  me 
to  marry  a  certain  girl  who  claimed  that  I  had  wronged 
her.  Perhaps  I  had,  but  that  was  my  business,  was  it 
not?" 

"  Tes,  yes,  to  be  sure  it  was,"  said  the  others.  Then 
one  of  them  asked :    "  But  what  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  married  her,"  was  the  reply. 

There  was  a  general  laugh,  in  which  the  speaker 
joined ;  then  the  third  shepherd  eaid : 

"  My  experience  with  Cromillian  was  not  a  very 
pleasant  one ;  in  fact,  I  carried  about  with  me,  for  fully 
a  week,  some  very  uncomfortable  reminders.  You  see 
for  nearly  two  hundred  years  there  has  been  a  vendetta 
between  my  family  and  that  of  the  Bendelas.  The  Ben- 
delas  have  all  died  out  with  the  exception  of  the  widow, 
whom  you  all  know,  and  her  little  son,  who  is  about  ten 
years  old,  I  think.  Less  than  a  month  ago  I  happened 
to  meet  him  and,  having  my  sheep-staff  with  me,  gave 
him  a  good  pounding  from  which  I  did  not  suppose  he 
could  recover.  I  left  him  in  the  forest,  feeling  quite 
sure  that  he  would  die  there,  but  as  it  so  happened 
that  rascal  Cromillian  found  him,  and  the  boy  told  him 
that  I  was  the  one  who  had  struck  him.  Three  days 
afterwards,  as  I  was  coming  home  from  Ajaccio,  one 
dark  night,  Cromillian  and  his  gang  captured  me.  They 
took  me  into  the  maquis,  bound  me  to  a  tree,  and  Cro- 
millian himself  gave  me  thirty  sturdy  whacks  upon  the 
back.  Then  he  dismissed  me  with  the  polite  admoni- 
tion that  if  I  touched  the  boy  again  he  would  shoot  me 
at  sight." 

"  Have  you  met  the  boy  since  ? "  asked  one  of  the 
shepherds. 

"  Oh,  yes,  often,"  was  the  reply.  "  About  a  week 
ago  I  called  upon  the  "Widow  Bendela  and  told  her  that 
I  would  consider  the  vendetta  closed  and  that  she  need 
have  no  fear  for  her  boy  in  the  future.     He,  on  his 


CROMILLIAN,  THE  MORAL  BANDIT.    119 

part,  promised  that  he  would  bear  no  ill-will  against 
me  or  mine." 

"  You  got  off  quite  easily,"  said  the  fourth  shepherd. 
"  Do  you  see  that  ?  "  As  he  spoke,  he  raised  a  matted 
shock  of  hair  from  the  right  side  of  his  head,  disclosing 
the  fact  that  his  right  ear  had  been  cut  off. 

"Why,  how  did  that  happen?"  all  three  cried  in 
unison. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  was  the  reply,  "  like  my  friend, 
I  inherited  a  vendetta.  One  day  I  thought  I  had  a  re- 
markably ffood  chance  to  bring  down  my  enemy.  I  had 
come  up  behind  him,  and  he  had  no  idea  of  my  presence. 
I  am  considered  a  good  shot,  but  I  missed  it  that  time. 
Instead  of  hitting  him  in  the  back  of  the  head,  as  I 
intended,  the  ball  struck  his  right  ear  and  lacerated  it 
so  that  the  greater  part  of  it  had  to  be  removed  by  the 
surgeon.  Somehow  or  other  Cromillian  got  wind  of  the 
affair.  Four  of  his  band  caught  me  one  day  and  carried 
me  into  the  maquis.  Cromillian  gave  me  a  long  lecture 
on  the  foolishness  and  criminality  of  the  vendetta  and 
then  told  me  he  would  give  me  something  to  remember 
his  words  by ;  and  he  did,  for  one  of  the  band  took  his 
stiletto  and  cut  off  my  right  ear.  I  have  only  one 
good  ear  now,  but  I  have  a  good  memory  and  I  do 
not  think  I  shall  forget  what  Cromillian  said  on  that 
occasion." 

"  Ha,  who  comes  here  ?  "  cried  one  of  the  men.  As 
he  spoke  a  little  girl,  apparently  about  ten  years  of  age, 
and  bearing  a  basket  which  seemed  to  be  heavily  laden, 
/approached  them. 

"  Ah,  my  little  girl,"  said  one  of  them,  "  what's 
in  your  basket  ?  "  As  he  spoke  he  took  it  from  her 
and  tore  off  the  cloth  which  covered  it.  "  Cold  tongue, 
venison,  bread,  butter,  cake,  chicken  pie." 

The  shepherds  gathered  around  the  basket  and  looke4 
upon  its  contents. 

"  A  feast  fit  for  an  emperor,"  said  one. 


120  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

The  little  girl  began  to  cry.  "  I'll  tell  uncle  if  you 
don't  give  me  back  my  basket.     He  is  waiting  for  me." 

"  Who  is  your  uncle,  little  girl  ?  "  was  the  next  ques- 
tion. 

"  Uncle  Cromillian,"  said  Lulie. 

The  four  men  started  back,  with  frightened  looks  in 
their  faces.  "  There,  we're  only  fooling,"  said  one  of 
them.  "  See,  we  have  not  touched  a  thing.  We  were 
only  in  play,  you  know." 

"  Just  in  fun,"  said  another.  Here,  take  this,"  pass- 
ing her  a  small  coin. 

"  Uncle  will  not  allow  me  to  take  money,"  said  Lulie. 

"  Who  has  the  care  of  you,  little  girl  ?  "  asked  one  of 
the  men. 

"  Uncle  Cromillian  takes  care  of  mother  and  me  and 
little  brother,  since  father  died.  He  is  not  my  uncle, 
but  he  says  I  may  call  him  so  if  I  want  to,  and  so  I  do 
because  he  takes  care  of  us." 

"  Say,  friends,"  said  the  man  with  one  ear,  "  you 
have  heard  of  the  old  feud  between  the  Batistellis  and 
the  Delia  Coscias.  There  will  be  blood  shed  in  Alfieri 
before  many  days  have  passed.  Let's  find  out  by  this 
little  chick  which  way  the  wind  blows." 

"  IS'o,  no,  no,"  cried  the  others,  "  you  must  not  ques- 
tion her.     She  will  tell  her  uncle." 

"  Do  you  take  me  for  a  fool  ?  iNo,  there  need  be  no 
questions,  but,  if  the  matter  is  talked  about  before  her, 
do  you  see,  I  shall  ask  her  to  improvise  for  our  amuse- 
ment !N"o  doubt  she  chants  like  a  thrush  and  may  hit 
the  keynote  for  us.  Come  here,  little  girl.  InTow,  I 
think  you  can  chant  a  hallata  for  us,  can  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  have  but  a  poor  gift,  but  if  only  Chennelly  Bap- 
tiste  were  here  she  would  charm  you.  She  is  called 
the  very  best  voceratrice  in  the  village.  That  is  why 
she  is  sent  for  to  attend  all  the  funerals;  she  has  the 
gift,  you  know." 

"  But  surely  you  can  give  us  a  few  lines  about  some- 


CROMILLIAN,  THE  MORAL  BANDIT.    121 

thing  tliat  has  happened  or  that  is  going  to  happen.  No 
doubt  your  mother  has  told  you  about  the  old  corporals 
who  lived  hundreds  of  years  ago  and " 

Suddenly,  the  girl  cried :  "  Oh,  I  have  thought  of 
something!    Hark,  now: 

"  The  big  oak  has  fallen  by  the  frost  and  the  snow, 
but  its  roots  shot  forth  a  branch  and  the  branch  has  be- 
come an  oak.  He  now  rules  his  father's  house,  the 
noble  house  of  Delia  Coscia.  There  shall  no  evil  come 
to  him,  for  Heaven  will  protect  him.  The  wicked 
Batistellis  shall  die  if  they  bring  any  harm  to  Vande- 
mar !  " 

"  You  have  sung  very  prettily,  my  little  girl,"  said 
the  shepherd  who  had  asked  her  to  improvise.  "  AYe  are 
much  obliged  to  you,  but  you  had  better  go  right  along, 
for  Uncle  Cromillian  is  waiting  for  his  dinner." 

The  speaker  looked  after  Lulie  until  she  had  disap- 
peared from  sight ;  then,  turning  to  the  others,  he  said : 

"  Ah !  I  thought  so,  but  we  shall  see.  If  I  mistake 
not,  we  are  all  partisans  of  the  Batistellis,  for  surely  it 
is  to  our  interest  to  be  on  the  side  of  the  most  powerful 
family  in  this  part  of  Corsica.  N^ow  that  Count  Mont 
d'Oro  is  dead  there  is  no  one  to  dispute  Pascal  Batis- 
telli's  authority  in  Alfieri." 

"  You  forget  Cromillian,"  said  one  of  the  shepherds. 

"  I  think  that  Pascal  Batistelli  is  a  match  for  Cromil- 
lian," was  the  reply.  "  If  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia 
dares  to  set  foot  in  Corsica  again,  Pascal  Batistelli  will 
have  his  life  before  Uncle  Cromillian  has  time  to  inter- 
fere. Then  we  shall  all  have  the  laugh  on  Uncle  Cro- 
millian." 

It  was  fully  a  fortnight  after  the  departure  of  Count- 
ess Mont  d'Oro  and  Bertha  from  Paris,  that  Clarence 
Glynne  received  a  letter  announcing  their  safe  arrival 
in  Corsica.  It  was  written  by  Bertha  and  he  read  it 
with  great  interest: 


122  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  My  Dear  Kind  Friends,  Clabence  and  Jennie  :    •. 

"  It  is  with  a  heart  overflowing  with  gratitude  that 
I  address  you  thus,  for  I  seem  almost  lost  in  this  great 
world.  I  have  been  here  only  a  few  days,  but  have 
learned  in  that  time  that  this  is  a  very  strange  country. 
Hate,  instead  of  love,  seems  to  be  the  ruling  passion 
among  Corsicans.  Countess  Mont  d'Oro  hates  her  own 
son,  and,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  everybody  hates  some- 
body else.  But  perhaps  I  ought  not  to  criticise  them  too 
severely.  Have  you  had  any  word  from  Mr.  De  Vinne, 
or  from  my  guardian,  your  father  ?  I  know  that  you 
will  send  me  information  regarding  them  as  soon  as 
possible,  but  the  suspense  in  which  I  live  from  day  to 
day  is  dreadful. 

"  The  Mont  d'Oro  estate  is  beautiful  in  so  far  as 
nature  can  make  it  so,  and  the  one  that  adjoins  it,  owned 
by  the  Batistelli  family,  is  even  more  lovely.  As  the 
story  goes,  about  seventeen  years  ago,  the  father,  Con- 
rad Batistelli,  was  assassinated  by  a  man  named  Manuel 
Delia  Coscia.  The  same  day  that  he  was  killed  his 
daughter  Vivienne  was  bom.  When  the  mother  learned 
of  the  death  of  her  husband,  she  became  insane  and 
died  in  that  condition,  leaving  the  little  girl  fatherless 
and  motherless.  Everybody  calls  Manuel  Delia  Coscia 
a  coward  for,  immediately  after  killing  Conrad  Batis- 
telli, he  left  the  island  secretly,  taking  with  him  his 
little  son  Vandemar,  who  was  about  six  years  of  age  at 
the  time,  and  they  have  not  been  heard  from  since. 
Every  true-hearted  Corsican  execrates  the  name  of  Delia 
Coscia,  for  in  Corsica  when  a  man  kills  his  enemy  he 
is  supposed  to  be  brave  enough  to  remain  and  give  the 
friends  of  his  enemy  a  chance  to  kill  him.  There  is  a 
rumour  that  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia  is  soon  to  return 
to  Corsica,  and  Countess  Mont  d'Oro  tells  me  that  the 
Batistelli  brothers  will  kill  him  at  sight  if  he  dares  to 
come.  I  am  not  acquainted  with  the  Batistellis,  nor 
do  I  wish  to  become  so,  with  the  prospect  of  such  a 


CROMILLIAN,  THE  MORAL  BANDIT.    123 

terrible  event  as  the  assassination  of  this  young  man  at 
their  hands. 

"  The  Countess  tells  rae  that  her  husband  and  Pascal 
Batistelli  were  very  anxious  that  her  son,  Count  Xapier, 
should  wed  Vivienne  Batistelli;  and,  according  to  the 
custom  of  the  country,  they  arranged  a  betrothal,  irre- 
spective of  the  wishes  of  the  young  people.  The  Count- 
ess says  that  Vivienne  came  to  her  one  day  and  told  her 
that  under  no  circumstances  could  she  ever  marry  her 
son,  and  it  was  solely  for  that  reason  the  Countess  in- 
duced Count  Napier  to  accompany  her  to  Paris,  where, 
as  you  know,  he  is  living  a  wild  life.  He  still  con- 
siders himself  betrothed  to  Vivienne,  but  the  Countess 
hopes  that  he  will  forget  her  and  not  come  back  to  Cor- 
sica again. 

"  With  love  to  you  both,  I  am  yours,  with  great  affec- 
tion, 

"  Bestha  Renville." 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

"to  see  is  to  love!" 

The  post-chaises  which  conveyed  Count  Mont  d'Oro 
and  Thomas  Glynne  reached  Marseilles  two  days  sooner 
than  did  the  slow-moving  vehicle  in  which  Jack  De 
Vinne  was  a  passenger.  The  Count  and  his  companion 
were  again  fortunate  in  finding  a  vessel  just  ready  to 
sail  for  Ajaccio,  while  Jack  was  detained  two  days  after 
his  arrival  hefore  he  could  find  a  vessel  bound  for  the 
desired  port.  For  these  reasons,  the  Count  and  Thomas 
Gl^Tine  reached  Corsica  some  five  days  sooner  than  did 
Jack. 

Before  their  arrival  the  Count  had  decided  that  he 
would  not  take  his  companion  to  the  hotel  in  Ajaccio. 
He  was  so  well  known  in  the  town  that  he  knew  the 
presence  of  his  foreign-looking  companion  would  he 
sure  to  cause  comment.  Again,  what  one  person  in 
Ajaccio  knew,  soon  everybody  knew,  and  he  did  not  care 
to  have  the  news  of  his  arrival  reach  his  mother  until 
he  was  able  to  present  himself  in  person. 

He  was  acquainted  with  a  Corsican  named  Savoni, 
who  lived  upon  a  side  street  quite  a  distance  from  the 
centre  of  the  town.  Savoni  was  a  widower  with  one 
daughter.  His  wife  had  been  the  victim  of  a  vendetta, 
and  the  daughter  had  come  near  meeting  the  same  fate 
as  her  mother.  She  had  received  a  severe  blow  upon 
the  head  from  which  she  had  never  fully  recovered.  She 
was  able,  however,  to  attend  to  her  household  duties 
and  had  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  the  best  cooks 
in  Corsica.  Count  Mont  d'Oro's  life  in  Paris  had  made 
him  a  hon  vivant,  and  he  knew  by  experience  that,  al- 


"TO  SEE  IS  TO  LOVE!"  126 

though  the  beds  in  the  hotel  at  Ajaccio  were  clean  and 
comfortable,  the  fare  was  not  of  a  high  order  of 
excellence.  It  was,  therefore,  to  Savoni's  house  that  he 
took  Thomas  Glynne  and  made  arrangements  for  him  to 
remain  there  until  he  should  send  for  him  to  come  to 
Mont  d'Oro  Castle. 

The  second  day  after  his  arrival  in  Corsica,  the  Count 
suddenly  made  his  appearance  at  the  home  of  his 
mother,  to  her  great  astonishment  and  to  the  dismay  of 
Bertha  Eenville.  The  mother  uttered  no  word  of  wel- 
come. Her  first  inquiry  was :  "  What  brought  you 
down  here  without  an  invitation  ?  " 

"  I  came  as  most  travellers  do,"  was  the  reply,  "  by 
post-chaise  from  Paris  to  Marseilles,  by  sailing  vessel 
from  Marseilles  to  Ajaccio,  and,  to  show  that  I  am  still 
an  able-bodied  young  man,  I  came  from  that  town  on 
foot.  I  am,  naturally,  somewhat  tired  and  deucedly 
hungry,  and  so,  if  you  have  no  objection,  my  good 
mother,  I  will  go  down  and  get  a  lunch." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  bowed  to  the  ladies, 
who  had  not  yet  recovered  from  their  astonishment,  and 
withdrew.  For  several  minutes  after  the  Count's  de- 
parture, the  ladies  said  nothing.  Then  the  Countess 
spoke : 

"  lie  won't  tell  me  what  he  came  for,  so  I  shall  have 
to  find  it  out  myself.  Have  you  formed  any  opinion  ?  " 
she  asked,  turning  to  Bertha. 

"  Why,  certainly  not,"  said  the  young  girl.  "  But 
from  what  you  have  told  me,  I  should  naturally  say 
that  he  came  to  see  his  mother." 

"  As  you  know  that  is  not  the  case,"  and  there  was  a 
bitter  smile  upon  the  face  of  the  Countess,  "  it  must  be 
that  he  came  to  see  somebody  else." 

Bertha-  may  have  divined  the  Countess's  meaning, 
but  she  did  not  propose  to  acknowledge  it,  so  she  said : 

"  Such  being  the  case,  his  object  is  probably  to  see 
Mademoiselle  Batistelli,  to  wlioin  he  is>  betrothed." 


126  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  was  the  reply,  "  but  we  shall  see," 
and,  by  mutual  consent,  the  subject  was  dropped. 

As  the  vessel  upon  which  Jack  De  Vinne  was  a  pas- 
senger was  approaching  the  quay,  the  young  man  caught 
sight  of  Mr.  Thomas  Glynne.  His  personal  appearance, 
despite  the  false  beard,  was  not  materially  changed,  and 
he  recognised  him  easily. 

"  Will  he  know  me  ?  "  was  Jack's  first  thought. 

Before  leaving  Paris  he  had  procured  a  pair  of  spec- 
tacles of  coloured  glass  to  wear  during  the  trip  from 
Marseilles  to  Ajaccio,  to  shade  his  eyes  from  the  glare 
of  the  sun  on  the  water.  He  resolved  to  keep  them  on 
as  a  measure  of  disguise.  He  brought  his  portmanteau 
from  his  cabin,  but  delayed  his  departure  from  the  ves- 
sel until  he  saw  Mr.  Glynne  turn  and  walk  leisurely 
towards  the  town ;  then  Jack  landed,  keeping  some  dis- 
tance behind  him.  Jack  was  debating  in  his  mind 
whether  he  should  go  directly  to  the  hotel,  even  if  Mr. 
Glynne  was  also  a  guest  there,  when  he  saw  the  latter 
turn  dovm  a  side  street. 

When  Jack  reached  the  hotel,  he  decided  that  he 
would  still  further  conceal  his  identity  by  giving  an  as- 
sumed name.  His  command  of  the  French  language 
was  so  good  that  he  felt  he  could  easily  pass  for  a 
native-bom  Frenchman,  so,  for  the  nonce.  Jack  De 
Vinne  became  Andrea  Fortier. 

The  dinner  was  simple  but  substantial,  and  after  it 
was  over  Jack  went  to  his  room  to  decide  upon  his 
future  course  of  action.  It  filled  him  with  happiness 
when  he  reflected  that  he  could  not  be  very  far  from 
Bertha  Renville.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  presence 
of  her  guardian  he  would  have  at  once  made  inquiries 
as  to  where  Countess  Mont  d'Oro  lived,  and  have  gone 
to  the  house ;  but  the  fact  that  Mr.  Glynne  was  in  Cor* 
eica  showed  that  he  must  proceed  cautiously  in  taking 
the  next  step.     Glynne  had  no  doubt  learned  that  his 


**T0  SEE  IS  TO  LOVE!"  127 

niece  was  in  Corsica,  and  was  there  upon  the  same  er- 
rand as  himself.  In  the  afternoon  the  sky  grew  over- 
cast, and  soon  a  heav^y  rain-storm  set  in ;  Jack  decided 
that  he  would  postpone  making  any  inquiries  until  the 
following  morning. 

When  the  bright  sun  heralded  the  advent  of  a  new 
day,  it  not  only  gave  a  warm  glow  to  the  face  of  nature, 
but  lighted  up  a  scene  of  unwonted  activity  in  the  har- 
bour. Riding  therein  was  a  great  vessel,  one  of  Old 
England's  invincible  frigates,  the  port-holes  indicating 
that  it  carried  an  armament  of  fully  sixty  guns,  while 
the  floating  pennant  showed  that  no  less  a  personage 
than  a  British  admiral  was  on  board.  The  vessel  was 
the  Osprey,  commanded  by  Admiral  Sir  Gilbert  En- 
right.  Acting  under  orders  from  the  Admiralty,  he 
had  been  visiting  certain  stations  in  the  Mediterranean, 
Ajaccio  being  on  his  list. 

The  Admiral  was  accompanied  by  his  only  daughter, 
Helen.  Before  the  departure  of  the  Osprey  from  Eng- 
land, Miss  Enright  was  convalescent  after  a  severe 
illness.  The  Admiral  had  desired  that  some  one  else 
should  be  placed  in  command  of  the  Osprey,  as  he  did 
not  wish  to  leave  his  daughter,  whose  health  was  not 
fully  restored.  To  his  great  delight,  one  of  the  Admi- 
ralty, who  was  a  personal  friend,  suggested  that  noth- 
ing would  do  Miss  Enright  so  much  good  as  a  sea  voy- 
age, and,  at  his  suggestion,  permission  was  given  by  the 
Admiralty  for  the  Admiral's  daughter  to  accompany 
him  on  the  voyage. 

Miss  Enright  was  nearly  thirty  years  of  age,  tall, 
thin,  sallow,  and  with  but  few  claims  to  personal 
beauty.  She  was  a  character,  in  a  way.  From  her 
earliest  years,  Helen  Enright  had  been  a  student  She 
loved  to  learn,  and  learned  to  love  learning  for  its  own 
sake.  There  were  no  colleges  for  women  in  those  days, 
but  her  father  was  wealthy  and  she  had  been  supplied 
with  competent  tutors  in  every  line  of  study  that  she 


128  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

chose  to  undertake.  She  had  a  passion  for  mathematics. 
Her  literary  recreation  was  history,  and  there  were  few 
women  of  her  age  in  England  who  could  solve  knotty 
mathematical  problems  or  pass  so  severe  an  examina- 
tion as  she  could  have  done  in  the  history  of  England 
and  the  Continental  countries. 

The  voyage  had  restored  her  strength,  and  she  had 
evinced  a  desire  to  become  acquainted  with  the  tech- 
nical details  of  the  vessel  which  her  father  commanded, 
and  with  the  principles  of  navigation.  Her  father's 
duties  were  such  that  he  could  not  devote  the  required 
time  necessary  to  give  her  the  desired  instruction,  so,  at 
her  suggestion,  for  her  father  usually  allowed  her  to 
have  her  own  way  in  everything,  one  of  the  officers  was 
detailed  to  act  as  her  tutor  in  seamanship.  That  officer 
was  Lieutenant  Victor  Duquesne. 

Miss  Helen,  of  course,  had  met  him  before  at  the 
iNTaval  Academy  and  at  her  father's  house,  and  was 
much  pleased  at  his  selection,  for  he  had  impressed  her 
as  being  very  handsome,  very  polite,  and  very  dignified, 
and  although  she  did  not,  as  a  rule,  care  much  for  the 
society  of  young  men,  on  one  occasion  she  found  herself 
lamenting  the  fact  that  he  was  so  young.  Victor  was 
but  twenty-three.  Perhaps  the  cause  of  her  lamenta- 
tion was  the  knowledge  that  she  was  seven  years  older 
than  he,  which,  to  her  eminently  practical  mind,  was  an 
insuperable  obstacle  to  an  intimacy  extending  beyond 
the  limits  of — friendship. 

It  was  late  that  morning  when  Jack  arose  and  gazed 
out  of  his  window  and  found  that  the  quay  was  crowded 
with  the  inhabitants  of  Ajaccio.  Jack's  first  inclination 
was  to  join  them.  Then  he  reflected  that  Mr.  Glynne 
would  undoubtedly  be  there,  and  he  wished  to  avoid  all 
possibility  of  recognition  until  he  had  seen  Bertha.  He 
decided,  therefore,  to  go  do^vnstairs  and  see  if  he  could 
learn  anything  about  the  new  arrival  and  the  reason 
for  the  appearance  of  that  formidable  warship  at  that 


"TO  SEE  IS  TO  LOVE!"  129 

port  He  found  the  landlord  in  a  state  of  pleasurable 
excitement. 

"  \Miat  vessel  is  that  in  the  bay  ?  "  inquired  Jack. 

"  That,"  answered  the  landlord,  "  is  the  British  ship 
Osprey,  commanded  by  Admiral  Enright,  and  I  have 
been  notified  that  the  Admiral,  with  his  daughter  and 
one  officer,  will  dine  at  the  hotel  and  possibly  pass  the 
night  here." 

"  The  Osprey!  Admiral  Enright!"  exclaimed  Jack, 
excitedly.  "  Why,  that  is  Victor's  ship.  How  fortu- 
nate!" 

"  What's  that  ?  "  inquired  the  landlord. 

"  JSTothing,"  answered  Jack,  abruptly.  "  I  was  only 
saying  that  I  think  I  know  one  of  the  officers.  VHiat  a 
dunce !  "  he  commented  to  himself  as  he  walked  away, 
"  but  then  I  have  been  through  so  much  since  I  parted 
from  Victor,  and  then  to  think  that  my  quest  of  Bertha 
should  bring  us  both  together  again  in  this  town !  How 
strange !     What  a  mighty  little  world  this  is,  after  all." 

He  could  scarcely  contain  himself,  yet  he  felt  that 
the  only  plan  for  him  would  be  to  await  the  arrival  of 
the  ship's  officers  and  ascertain  if  Victor  was  aboard. 
He  did  not  wish  to  run  the  risk  of  meeting  Mr.  Glynne, 
so  he  returned  to  his  room  and  passed  the  time  in  gazing 
out  of  the  window  toward  the  harbour,  and  in  watching 
the  crowd  of  people  passing  to  and  fro. 

Towards  noon  a  boat  put  off  from  the  warship.  Jack 
eagerly  watched  the  craft  as  it  neared  the  shore  and 
was  lost  to  his  sight.  Shortly,  the  crowd  parted  and 
three  people  were  seen  coming  up  the  quay.  One  was  a 
stout  gentleman  with  a  very  florid  face,  wearing  the 
undress  uniform  of  a  British  admiral,  while  upon 
one  side  of  him  was  a  young  lady,  and  on  the  other  side 
was — yes — Victor ! 

Jack  grabbed  his  hat  and  ran  downstairs,  but  as  he 
reached  the  veranda  he  suddenly,  with  great  restraint, 
subdued  his  intense  excitement,  and  as  the  three  vis- 


130  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

itors  approached,  Jack  stood  quietly  by  the  entrance  of 
the  hotel,  hoping  thus  to  accentuate  Victor's  surprise, 
and  at  the  same  time  conjuring  up  in  his  own  mind  the 
effect  the  meeting  would  have  on  his  bosom  friend. 
They  had  just  reached  the  steps  when  Victor  happened 
to  look  up  and  straight  into  the  eyes  of  Jack ! 

Victor  recoiled,  as  from  a  shock,  gave  another  earnest 
look,  then,  neglecting  all  formalities,  darted  forward 
with  both  hands  extended.     "  Jack!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Old  fellow,"  cried  Jack,  "  this  is  a  pleasure." 

"  Well,  well,  well !  "  exclaimed  Victor,  totally  at  a 
loss  what  else  to  say,  while  in  his  intense  gaze  was 
a  veritable  compound  of  inquiry,  surprise,  and  de- 
light. At  once  recollecting  himself,  he  placed  his  hand 
on  Jack's  shoulder  and  turned  to  Admiral  Enright. 
"  Admiral  Enright,  permit  me  the  honour  of  presenting 
to  you  my  very  closest  friend,  Mr.  John  De  Vinne." 

"  Mr.  De  Vinne,  I  am  most  happy  to  make  your  ac- 
quaintance," said  the  Admiral,  grasping  Jack  warmly 
by  the  hand.  Then  turning  to  his  daughter,  he  said: 
"  Mr.  De  Vinne,  permit  me  to  present  you  to  my  daugh- 
ter, IMiss  Helen." 

Miss  Enright  graciously  acknowledged  the  introduc- 
tion. 

The  landlord  now  appeared  and  escorted  the  quartet 
to  the  hotel  parlour,  much  to  the  chagrin  of  the  curious 
crowd  that  had  gathered  outside  the  door. 

After  a  few  generalities  had  been  indulged  in,  dinner 
was  announced.  To  Jack  was  accorded  the  pleasant 
duty  of  escorting  Miss  Enright  to  dinner.  The  Ad- 
miral occupied  the  post  of  honour  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  with  Victor  on  his  left. 

After  the  conclusion  of  the  meal  the  Admiral's 
daughter  excused .  herself  as  she  wished  to  rest  for  a 
while,  and  the  Admiral  also  repaired  to  his  room  to  at- 
tend to  matters  in  connection  with  his  visit  This  left 
the  yoimg  men  to  their  own  devices. 


"TO  SEE  IS  TO  LOVE!"  131 

"  Come  right  up  to  my  room,  Vic,"  exclaimed  Jack. 

Slamming  the  door  behind  them,  he  threw  his  hat  on. 
the  bed  and  motioned  Victor  to  a  seat  and  said :  "  'Now, 
old  boy,  I  have  got  you  all  to  myself.  How  is  it  the 
fates  have  thrown  us  together  ?  " 

"  You  are  the  one  to  explain,"  said  Victor.  "  I  am 
here  in  obedience  to  my  father's  request,  as  j'ou  well 
know,  but  when  I  last  saw  you,  you  had  as  much  idea 
of  coming  to  Ajaccio  as  you  had  of  visiting  Hades." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  exclaimed  Jack.  "  You  are  right, 
but  much  has  happened  since  we  parted,  which  you 
should  understand.  I  am  now  heir  to  the  Earldom  of 
Xoxton."  He  then,  at  length,  made  Victor  acquainted 
with  the  death  and  burial  of  his  brother,  the  escape  of 
Bertha  from  her  guardian  and  her  flight  to  Corsica.  "  I 
arrived  here  but  yesterday,"  he  concluded,  "  and  to- 
morrow I  shall  search  her  out.  Your  father  lives  here, 
I  believe,"  he  said. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Victor.  "  When  I  ar- 
rived at  Malta  I  received  a  letter  from  my  father  for- 
warded to  me  from  the  Admiralty,  which  requested  me 
to  announce  my  arrival  here  in  a  note  which  I  was  to 
address  to  one  Cromillian,  my  father  saying  that  this 
man  Cromillian  was  a  friend  of  his  and  would  see  that 
the  message  reached  him.  I  am  in  a  quandary  as  to 
just  what  to  do.  I  must  leave  early  in  the  morning, 
commissioned  by  the  Admiral  to  present  a  letter  of  in- 
troduction to  Monsieur  Batistelli.  This  will  take  a  cou- 
ple of  days,  for  which  I  am  very  sorry,  as  I  should  like 
to  send  this  letter  to  Cromillian  at  the  earliest  possible 
moment." 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  said  Jack.  "  You  write  the  letter, 
Vic,  and  I  will  undertake  to  deliver  it  in  the  morning, 
and  at  the  same  time,  possibly,  I  can  secure  information 
as  to  the  whereabouts  of  Countess  Mont  d'Oro  and,  con- 
sequently, Bertha." 

"And  will  you  do  this?"  cried  Lieutenant  Duquesne. 


132  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  What  the  ancient  Pylades  did  for  the  ancient 
Orestes  the  modern  Pylades  will  do  for  you,"  answered 
Jack  warmly. 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear  friend,"  cried  Lieutenant  Du- 
quesne,  as  he  grasped  Jack  by  the  hand,  "  I  can  think 
of  no  service  which  would  be  more  highly  appreciated 
by  me." 

The  two  friends,  as  may  be  imagined,  found  plenty 
of  topics  on  which  to  converse,  and  before  they  parted 
that  night  Lieutenant  Duquesne  VTrote  his  note  and 
placed  it  in  an  envelope  with  the  name  Cromillian  on 
the  outside.  "  I  have  more  time  now,"  he  said,  "  than 
I  shall  have  in  the  morning." 

They  then  bade  each  other  good-night  and  Victor 
went  to  his  room. 

Jack  was  greatly  excited  by  the  course  of  events  and 
sat  down  by  the  window.  It  was  a  bright,  moonlight 
night.  He  felt  that  he  must  do  something  to  quiet  his 
mental  agitation.  He  put  on  his  hat  and  walked  out 
of  the  hotel,  scarcely  noticing  what  course  he  was  tak- 
ing. He  walked  on  until  he  found  himself  upon  the 
quay.  The  great  hull  of  the  Osprey  loomed  up  before 
him,  the  bright  rays  of  the  moon  lighting  up  the  vessel 
as  if  it  were  noonday. 

He  glanced  downward  and  saw  his  full-length  shadow 
projected  upon  the  rough  planks  of  the  quay.  The 
thought  came  to  him  that  he  did  not  wish  to  stand  out 
in  such  bold  relief,  and  he  quickly  sought  a  part  of  the 
quay  where  the  shadows  were  almost  impenetrable. 

Hardly  had  he  done  so,  when  he  heard  the  plashing 
of  oars.  In  a  moment,  he  saw  a  boat  containing  two 
men  approaching  the  quay.  When  they  reached  the 
wharf,  they  stood  for  several  minutes  without  speaking, 
but  looking  intently  at  the  British  frigate.  Jack  was 
not  more  than  ten  feet  from  them  and,  when  they  did 
speak,  every  word  uttered  was  overheard  by  him. 

"  Just  like  those  Englishmen,"  one  of  them  said.  "  If 


"TO  SEE  IS  TO  LOVE!"  133 

they  know  anything,  they  won't  tell  you,  and  if  they 
don't,  they  can't  tell  you,  so  you  learn  nothing  either 
way.  I  did  my  best  to  find  out  from  that  sentry 
whether  Lieutenant  Duquesne  was  on  board,  but  not  a 
word  could  I  get  out  of  him;  only  to  come  to-morrow, 
between  eleven  and  twelve.  But  we  can't  go  to-morrow, 
for  Cromillian  told  me  that  he  had  some  important  work 
on  hand  which  would  take  us  away  to  the  south  for  a 
week." 

"  I  don't  see  that  we  can  do  any  more,"  said  the 
other  man,  "  except  to  tell  him  that  we  can't  find  out 
anything.  He  is  a  just  man,  is  Cromillian,  and  he 
won't  blame  us  if  we  have  done  all  that  we  can  do." 

"  I  would  go  up  to  the  hotel,"  said  the  first  speaker, 
"  and  see  if  this  Lieutenant  is  there,  but  the  landlord 
knows  me,  and  so  do  all  the  servants,  and,  if  I  ask  for 
the  Lieutenant,  they  would  immediately  surmise  that 
he  was  connected  in  some  way  with  Cromillian,  and  the 
Captain,  you  know,  cautioned  us  both  to  do  nothing 
that  would  show  that  he  knew  the  Lieutenant  or  any- 
thing about  him." 

Jack  waited  to  hear  no  more.  The  Fates  had  been 
kind.  Here  was  his  opportunity.  Without  stopping 
to  think  how  reckless  his  conduct  was,  he  stepped  for- 
ward from  his  dark  retreat  and  placed  a  hand  on  each 
of  the  speakers.  Quick  as  lightning,  they  stepped 
back  and  pulling  out  their  stilettos,  stood  facing  him. 
Then  Jack  realised  his  narrow  escape,  for  a  Corsican 
usually  strikes  first  and  asks  for  explanations  after- 
wards. 

"  Pat  up  your  weapons,"  he  said,  in  the  mildest  tone 
he  could  assume,  although  his  voice  was  agitated.  "  I 
overheard  what  you  said,  but  I  am  a  friend." 

"  You  will  have  to  prove  that  before  we  believe  it," 
said  one  of  the  men,  and  they  still  held  their  stilettos  in 
position  for  ready  use. 

"  I  am  a  friend  of  Lieutenant  Duquesne,  the  man 


134  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

whom  you  seek,  and  also  have  a  letter  from  him  which 
he  has  asked  me  to  take  to  the  man  whose  name  is 
Cromillian,  Here,  look  at  this  and  you  will  see  that 
I  have  spoken  the  truth." 

He  took  the  letter  from  his  pocket  and  showed  it  to 
the  men. 

"  Is  that  all  right?  "  asked  one  of  the  men,  turning  to 
the  other.     "  You  know  I  cannot  read." 

The  second  man  took  the  letter  and  scanned  it  closely, 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  that's  the  name  on  the  letter — 
Cromillian.  What  do  you  want  us  to  do  ?  To  take  the 
letter  to  Cromillian  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Jack,  "  I  gave  my  word  to  Lieutenant 
Duquesne  that  I  would  deliver  it  to  Cromillian  myself. 
What  better  proof  can  you  have  of  my  good  faith  than 
my  willingness  to  go  with  you  ?  " 

"  That's  so,"  said  one  of  the  men,  and  the  other  one 
nodded  his  assent.     They  sheathed  their  stilettos. 

"  When  can  you  go  ?  "  asked  one  of  them. 

"  At  once,"  replied  Jack. 

"  Come  along  then,"  was  the  command.  "  Are  you 
good  for  a  six-mile  tramp  over  a  rough  road  ?  " 

"  I  have  walked  a  much  longer  distance  than  that 
over  worse  roads  than  I  have  seen  here,"  was  Jack's 
reply. 

"  Come  along  then,"  said  one  of  the  men.  "  Here, 
take  your  letter." 

Jack  put  it  in  his  coat  pocket  and  prepared  to  follow 
the  men,  but  they  had  their  ideas  as  to  the  precise  man- 
ner in  which  the  journey  should  be  performed.  Each 
of  the  men  took  one  of  Jack's  arms  within  his  own, 
and  thus,  half  captive  and  half  supported,  Jack  began 
his  march. 

As  they  walked  on,  he  felt  somewhat  elated  at  the 
course  which  events  had  taken,  but  his  feelings  of  satis- 
faction would  have  given  place  to  others  of  a  different 
nature  if  he  could  have  looked  behind  him  and  seen  the 


"TO  SEE  IS  TO  LOVE!"  135 

figure  which  came  stealthily  forward  from  out  a  shadow 
as  dense  as  that  which  had  enfolded  Jack,  and  not  more 
than  twentv  feet  from  where  the  latter  had  stood. 

Thomas  Glynne  kept  the  trio  in  sight.  They  were 
not  likely  to  look  back  unless  he  approached  them  too 
closely,  and  it  was  easy  for  him  to  look  forward. 

"  I  never  should  have  known  him,"  said  Glynne  to 
himself.  "  He  seems  changed  somehow,  but  when  ho 
spoke  I  recognised  his  voice  at  once.  My  young  man, 
T  do  not  know  what  you  are  up  to  and  the  man  they  call 
Cromillian,  but  you  evidently  do  not  know  what  you 
are  up  to  any  more  than  I  do.  It  is  a  good  maxim, 
when  you  find  a  trail  to  follow  it  and  trust  to  luck  for 
the  result.  I  shall  probably  get  back  to  town  before  the 
Count  sends  for  me  to  go  to  the  house.  I  am  sure  he  is 
a  rascal  at  heart ;  but,  if  I  can't  keep  her  from  marrying 
Mr.  Jack  De  Vinne  I'll  know  tlie  reason  why." 

The  next  morning.  Lieutenant  Duquesne  went  to 
Jack's  room  and  knocked.  There  being  no  response  to 
repeated  summonses  of  like  nature,  he  tried  the  latch, 
and  the  door  yielded.  He  looked  in,  and  started  back 
in  astonishment.  The  bed  had  not  been  slept  in,  yet 
there  was  evidence  that  the  occupant  intended  to  re- 
turn, for  his  portmanteau  was  open  and  several  articles 
which  he  had  taken  from  it  were  upon  the  table.  Lieu- 
tenant Duquesne  was  much  excited  on  making  this  dis- 
covery.    He  at  once  sought  the  landlord: 

"  Did  my  friend,  Mr.  Fortier,  tell  you  last  night, 
before  he  went  out,  that  he  was  to  be  gone  for  any  length 
of  time  ?  " 

"  Gone  ?  "  queried  the  publican.     "  Has  he  gone  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  where  he  has  gone  or  how  long  he  in- 
tends to  stay,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  a  little  nettled, 
"  but  he  did  not  sleep  in  his  room  last  night,  which  looks 
as  though  he  intended  to  return." 

"  Well,"  said  the  landlord,  "  the  room  is  his  for  a 
week,  and  he  can  come  back  when  he  gets  ready.     He 


136  ^^  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

paid  me  in  advance.  If  he  doesn't  come  back  when  his 
time  is  up,  I  shall  lock  up  his  effects  and  charge  him  for 
storage  until  I  get  my  money,"  said  the  landlord. 

"No  doubt  but  you  will  do  that,"  said  the  Lieu- 
tenant, "  but  I  am  a  little  anxious  to  know  what  has  be- 
come of  him.  Do  you  know  when  he  went  out?  I 
hope  no  harm  has  come  to  him." 

"  I  went  to  bed  early  last  night,"  said  the  landlord, 
"  but  I  will  ask  some  of  the  servants." 

Inquiry  failed  to  find  any  one  who  had  seen  Mr. 
Fortier  leave  the  hotel,  and  Lieutenant  Duquesne  was 
obliged  to  content  himself  with  the  reflection  that  pos- 
sibly the  young  man  had  started  at  once  to  perform  the 
mission  which  he  had  intrusted  to  him.  Once  more,  he 
went  in  search  of  the  landlord : 

"  If  my  friend,  Mr.  Fortier,  doesn't  come  back  at  the 
end  of  the  week,  I  wish  you  to  lock  the  door,  leaving 
the  articles  therein  just  where  he  left  them.  I  will  be 
responsible  for  the  rent  of  the  room,  at  least  until  our 
vessel  sails." 

"  It  doesn't  make  any  difference  who  pays  the  bills, 
so  long  as  I  get  my  money,"  said  the  landlord. 

Lieutenant  Duquesne  ascertained  the  shortest  road 
which  would  lead  him  to  the  Batistelli  castle,  and, 
having  secured  a  saddle-horse,  started  to  perform  the 
mission  which  Admiral  Enright  had  intrusted  to  him — 
the  presentation  of  a  letter  of  introduction  which  he 
bore  from  Lord  Colton,  the  Admiral's  cousin. 

Pascal  Batistelli  received  the  young  man  graciously. 
The  head  of  the  house  of  Batistelli  was  a  man  about 
forty  years  of  age,  with  a  naturally  constrained  ex- 
pression and  a  forbidding  manner;  but  he  was  well 
versed  in  the  requirements  of  polite  society,  and  he 
probably  remembered  that,  when  he  had  visited  Lon- 
don, many  years  before,  in  search  of  Manuel  Delia 
Coscia  and  his  son,  soon  after  the  death  of  his  father, 
lie  had  received  many  attentions  and  much  assistance 


"TO  SEE  IS  TO  LOVE!"  137 

from  Lord  Colton,  to  whom  he  had  been  introduced  by 
the  French  ambassador.  The  time  had  now  come  for 
him  to  reciprocate  the  courtesy,  and  he  assured  Lieu- 
tenant Duquesne  that  it  would  give  him  great  pleasure 
to  receive  Admiral  Enright  and  his  daughter  as  his 
guests,  and  he  added,  as  the  thought  came  to  him  that 
this  young  man  might  be  a  suitor,  or  possibly  the  ac- 
cepted lover,  of  the  Admiral's  daughter: 

"  It  would  give  me  additional  pleasure,  my  dear 
Lieutenant,  if  you,  also,  would  accept  the  hospitality  of 
my  house." 

The  Lieutenant  thanked  him  and  said  that,  if  it  was 
the  Admiral's  wish  and  that  of  his  daughter,  he  would 
be  pleased  to  accept.  The  two  gentlemen  parted  with 
mutual  expressions  of  esteem  and  regard,  although  their 
acquaintance  had  been  of  very  short  duration,  but  such 
expressions  are  a  part  of  the  social  code,  and  may  mean 
more  or  less,  as  the  case  may  be. 

As  the  Lieutenant  left  the  house,  he  stopped  to  sur- 
vey the  magnificent  grounds  which  surrounded  the  man- 
sion. As  he  walked  slowly  towards  the  gate,  outside  of 
which  he  had  tied  his  horse,  his  ear  caught  the  sound  of 
running  water.  He  paused  at  the  entrance  of  a  path 
which  led  through  a  grove  of  trees  with  overhanging, 
interlaced  branches,  forming  a  cool  retreat.  He  en- 
tered, and,  as  he  advanced,  the  sound  grew  louder  and 
louder.  At  the  end  of  the  path  he  came  to  a  sudden 
stop,  gazing  with  admiration  at  the  picture  before 
him. 

The  sound  of  running  water  had  come  from  a  little 
brook  which,  at  the  end  of  the  path,  fell  over  a  rocky 
ledge  some  six  feet  high,  forming  a  small  waterfall. 
The  bright  rays  of  the  sun  fell  upon  the  drops  of  water 
as  they  descended,  giving  them  the  appearance  of  a 
shower  of  diamonds.  But  it  was  not  this  natural 
beauty  by  which  the  young  man's  gaze  was  transfixed. 
Kneeling  at  the  foot  of  the  waterfall,  a  basket  of  freshly 


138  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

plucked  flowers  beside  her,  was  the  most  beautiful  girl 
whom  he  had  ever  seen.  Her  hair  and  eyes  were  black, 
while  her  skin  had  that  peculiar  tint  found  only  among 
the  women  of  the  southern  nations  of  Europe.  She 
was  young,  not  more  than  eighteen,  and,  as  she  knelt 
beside  the  brook,  dipping  first  one  hand  and  then  the 
other  in  the  water,  and  sprinkling  the  flowers,  she  formed 
a  picture  of  beauty  and  grace  sure  to  appeal  to  an  im- 
pressionable young  man  like  Lieutenant  Victor  Du- 
quesne.  She  had  not  heard  the  young  man  approach, 
and  kept  on  with  her  task,  unmindful  of  his  pres- 
ence. 

Her  heart  must  have  been  full  of  happiness  that 
morning,  for  she  began  to  sing,  and  the  Lieutenant  was 
sure  that  he  had  never  heard  a  voice  of  such  purity  and 
sweetness.  He  did  not  know  what  to  do  next,  so  he 
simply  stood  still  gazing  with  unfeigned  pleasure  upon 
the  lovely  girl  before  him.  Suddenly  she  looked  up 
and  their  eyes  met.  She  started  to  her  feet,  with  a 
slight  cry,  and  then  the  rich  blood  mounted  to  her 
cheeks,  tinging  them  a  deep  red.  She  did  not  speak 
but  her  eyes  asked  the  question,  plainly: 

"  Who  are  you  and  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

Lieutenant  Duquesne  divined  their  meaning  and, 
bowing  low,  said :  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  mademoiselle, 
but  I  have  just  come  from  Monsieur  Pascal  Batistelli, 
whom  I  visited  with  a  message  from  my  superior 
officer,  when  I  heard  the  sound  of  running  water  and, 
unconscious  that  I  was  guilty  of  an  impropriety,  I 
came  down  this  path  to  learn  the  cause." 

"  And  you  have  seen  my  brother  ?  "  the  young  girl 
asked. 

"  I  have  seen  Monsieur  Pascal  Batistelli,"  was  the 
reply.     "  Are  you  a  daughter  of  the  house  ?  " 

The  young  girl  dropped  the  large  black  eyes  which, 
up  to  this  time,  had  looked  frankly  into  his. 

"  I  am  the  only  daughter,"  she  said.     "  I  am  Vivi- 


"TO  SEE  IS  TO  LOVE!"  139 

enne  Batistelli,  I  have  two  brothers,  Pascal  and 
Julien,  but  Julian  is  not  at  home.  He  went  away  yes- 
terday and  has  not  come  back." 

"  I  regret  that  I  did  not  meet  him,"  said  the  Lieu- 
tenant, politely,  "  but  I  trust  that  I  may  yet  have  that 
pleasure.  Those  are  beautiful  flowers  which  you  have 
gathered,  and  the  pure  water  that  you  have  sprinkled 
upon  them  has  given  them  an  added  loveliness.  May 
I  ask  a  favour  ?  " 

The  young  girl  looked  up  and  smiled.  "  If  not  too 
great  a  one,"  she  said. 

"  To  grant  it,"  and  the  young  man  bowed  low,  "  will 
rob  you  of  but  one  of  those  beautiful  flowers.  I  should 
like  to  take  it  with  me  as  a  souvenir  of  this  unexpected 
but  very  pleasant  meeting." 

"  I  surely  shall  not  feel  the  loss  of  one  little  flower," 
said  she,  as  she  took  a  white  rose  from  the  basket,  "  and 
I  am  pleased  to  give  it  to  you  if  it  will  afford  you  as 
much  pleasure  as  you  say  it  will." 

He  took  the  flower. 

"  Pardon,  monsieur,  but  I  must  return  to  the  house, 
or  my  flowers  will  wilt  in  the  hot  sun  despite  the  cool 
bath  which  I  have  given  them." 

Lieutenant  Duquesne  stepped  to  one  side,  thinking 
that  she  would  go  by  way  of  the  path  and  would  have  to 
pass  him,  but  she  turned  in  an  opposite  direction  and 
quickly  disappeared  from  sight.  The  Lieutenant  left 
the  path  and,  reaching  the  brook,  stood  upon  the 
same  place  where  she  had  knelt.  As  he  did  so,  he 
saw  her  slight  form  disappear  beneath  a  vine-covered 
arbour  a  short  distance  away.  A  thought  came  into 
his  mind  and,  unconsciously,  found  expression  in 
words: 

"  She  is  beautiful,"  and  he  started  at  the  sound  of  his 
own  voice ;  "  she  is  the  most  beautiful  girl  I  ever  saw. 
To  see  her  is  to  lore  her !  " 

He  retraced  his  steps  and  entered  the  path  again 


140  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

when,  to  his  surprise,  he  came  face  to  face  with  a  young 
man  of  about  his  own  age,  dressed  in  the  height  of  Pa- 
risian fashion,  who  stood  regarding  him  with  an  angry 
frown  upon  his  face. 

It  was  the  young  Count  Napier  Mont  d'Oro. 


CHAPTEK   XIV. 

A  FLOWEE  WITH   BLOOD-STAINED  PETALS. 

Beetha  Renville  was  seated  alone  in  the  beautiful 
boudoir  of  Countess  Mont  d'Oro.  She  had  just  received 
a  long  and  interesting  letter  from  Mrs.  Clarence 
Glynne,  the  concluding  paragraph  of  which  read : 

I 

"  My  husband  has  almost  entirely  recovered  from 
his  severe  illness.  Mr.  Jack  De  Vinne  wrote  us  a  short 
note,  merely  to  say  that  he  would  start  for  Corsica  im- 
mediately and  we  have  not  heard  from  him  since.  He 
informed  us  that  he  had  called  at  Countess  Mont 
d'Oro's  residence  in  Paris,  but  learned  that  you  and  the 
Countess  had  left  for  some  place  unknown.  As  for 
Mr.  Glynne,  your  guardian,  he  left  here  at  the  time 
Clarence  was  taken  ill  to  search  for  you  and  bring  you 
back.  Clarence  thinks  he  went  to  Paris  and  finding 
you  had  accompanied  the  Countess  Mont  d'Oro  to  Cor- 
sica, that  his  father  will  undoubtedly  continue  his  quest 
to  that  place.  He  says  his  father  is  a  very  determined 
man,  is  very  angry  at  your  disappearance,  and  will 
certainly  follow  you  if  he  can  leam  where  you  have 
gone. 

"  Yours  very  devotedly, 

"  Jennie  Glynne. 

"  P.  S. — I  think  Mr.  De  Vinne  knows  where  you  are, 
but  thought  it  best  for  us  not  to  know." 

Count  ITapier  Mont  d'Oro's  experience  had  not  been 
very  pleasant  before  his  meeting  with  Lieutenant  Du- 
fluesne.    Learning  from  one  of  the  servants  that  hia 

141 


142  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

mother  had  gone  to  pay  a  visit  to  a  tenant  who  was  ill, 
he  made  his  way  at  once  to  her  boudoir.  Upon  enter- 
ing he  found  Bertha  seated,  gazing  abstractedly  at  the 
letter  which  she  had  just  finished  reading. 

"  Ah !  My  good  mother  is  not  here.  I  wished  to 
speak  to  her.  I  suppose  she  will  return  soon.  Pardon 
me,  if  I  wait,"  and  he  sank  into  a  chair.  "  This  is  a 
beautiful  morning,  is  it  not,  mademoiselle  ?  And  how 
do  you  like  Corsica  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  very  little  of  it,"  was  the  reply.  "  I 
have  not  been  out  of  the  house  since  my  arrival,  except 
to  take  a  walk  in  the  grounds." 

"  Ah !  That  is  a  shame !  "  cried  the  Count,  sympa- 
thetically. "  Will  you  not  go  driving  with  me  this 
morning?  Our  scenery  is  beautiful  because  it  is  so 
natural.  The  hand  of  art  has  not  tampered  with  it 
as  it  has  in  France." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Count  Mont  d'Oro,"  Bertha 
replied,  "  but  your  mother  said  she  would  order  the 
carriage  this  afternoon." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  the  Count.  "  I  know  she  is  afraid 
of  a  spirited  horse,  and  old  Pierre  will  drive  you,  with 
a  pair  of  horses  almost  as  old  as  he  is.  I  have  a  high- 
stepper  in  the  stables,  a  spirited  beast  that  curvets, 
prances,  and  amuses  you  with  his  antics." 

"  I  think,"  replied  Bertha,  "  for  carriage  driving  I 
should  prefer  the  quieter  animals.  I  am  not  afraid 
when  I  am  on  horseback,  but  really  I  must  decline  your 
invitation.     There  are  reasons "     She  hesitated. 

The  Count  drew  his  chair  closer  to  her. 

"  And  what  are  the  reasons,  do  you  suppose,  that 
have  caused  me  to  give  up  my  pleasant  life  in  Paris 
and  come  down  here  to  this  humdrum  place  ?  " 

Bertha  felt  piqued  by  his  persistency.  "  To  see  your 
lady-love,  I  suppose,"  she  said. 

"To  see  a  lady-love,  yes.  Do  you  know  her 
name?" 


A  BLOOD-STAINED  FLOWER.  143 

"  Mademoiselle  Vivienne  Batistelli,  I  presume,"  re- 
plied Bertha,  with  a  tone  of  restraint  in  her  voice. 

The  Count  laughed.  "  She  is  one  of  them.  I  sup- 
pose you  may  have  heard  that  she  is  my  prospective 
bride.  But  a  Corsican  falls  in  love  many  times  before 
he  weds." 

"  I  am  not  used  to  the  ways  of  your  country,"  said 
Bertha,  "  and,  for  that  reason,  I  cannot  fully  appreciate 
what  you  have  just  said." 

"  But  I  know  a  great  deal  about  your  country,"  re- 
joined the  Count.  "  I  had  the  pleasure  of  coming  from 
Marseilles  to  Ajaccio  on  the  same  vessel  with  a  true 
friend  of  yours." 

Bertha  started  and  her  cheeks  flushed.  Whom  could 
he  mean  but  Jack  ?  He  was  only  teasing  her  after  all. 
She  must  be  more  gracious.  She  turned  a  smiling  face 
towards  the  Count  and  said: 

"  I  have  so  few  friends  in  Corsica  I  should  be  pleased 
to  learn  that  I  have  one  more.  AYhen  may  I  expect 
to  see  him  ?  " 

"  Well,"  replied  the  Count,  "  he  is  not  coming  here 
until  I  tell  him  that  you  are  ready  to  receive  him.  He 
has  promised  to  be  guided  by  me  in  the  matter." 

"  That  is  strange.    I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  Well,  you  will  when  I  tell  you  who  he  is." 

Bertha  was  in  a  quandary.  What  could  it  mean? 
Who  would  make  a  promise  to  Count  Mont  d'Oro  that 
he  would  not  come  to  see  her  except  with  the  Count's 
permission?  It  must  be  Jack — and  yet,  she  hesitated 
to  mention  his  name. 

The  Count  thought  the  time  had  come  to  relieve  her 
suspense. 

"  My  companion,"  he  said,  "  was  your  guardian,  Mr. 
Thomas  Glynne." 

Bertha  started  to  her  feet  The  smile  faded  from 
her  face  and  a  look  of  apprehension,  almost  terror,  suc- 
ceeded it. 


144  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  But  you  will  not  tell  him  where  I  am  ?  "  she  cried, 
appealingly. 

"  Oh,  he  knows  where  you  are,"  replied  the  Count, 
"  but  I  imagined  from  what  I  heard  that  you  were  not 
very  desirous  of  seeing  him,  so  I  made  him  promise 
that  he  would  not  come  here  until  I  told  him  he  might." 

"  That  was  very  good  of  you,  Count  I  do  not  wish 
to  see  him.  You  will  do  all  you  can  to  keep  him  away 
from  here,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  that  depends,"  said  the  Count.  "  I  do  not 
think  I  should  enjoy  your  society  if  he  were  here, 
and,  if  there  is  any  prospect  of  our  passing  some  pleas- 
ant days  together,  you  may  be  sure  that  he  will  not 
hear  from  me  while  they  last." 

Bertha  divined  his  purpose  and  her  proud  spirit  re- 
belled at  the  virtual  threat.  So  this  young  man  pro- 
posed to  force  himself  upon  her  and  to  oblige  her  to 
endure  his  society.  If  she  did  not  comply,  then  he  in- 
tended to  send  for  her  guardian.  Whatever  slight  feel- 
ing of  respect  she  may  have  had  for  him  vanished  at 
once.  No  wonder  that  his  mother  hated  him.  What 
a  mean-spirited  young  man  he  was !  But  what  could  she 
do?  Then  the  thought  came  to  her  that  Jack  was 
coming  to  Corsica.  Perhaps  he  had  already  arrived 
and  would  soon  be  there  to  protect  her.  She  turned  to 
the  Count. 

"  It  makes  little  difference  to  me.  Count  Mont 
d'Oro,"  she  said,  "  whether  my  guardian  comes  here  or 
not  I  have  other  friends  upon  whose  protection  I  can 
rely." 

"  I  know  whom  you  mean,"  said  the  Count,  "  but 
he  will  not  come.  You  are  thinking  of  Monsieur  De 
Vinne.  Your  guardian  expected  to  break  the  sad  news 
to  you  himself,  but  as  he  is  not  here  I  will  tell  you  what 
he  told  me.  Your  young  friend.  Monsieur  De  Vinne, 
was,  unfortunately,  killed  in  a  fight  which  took  place 
between  a  Frenclmian  and  an  Englishman." 


A  BLOOD-STAINED  FLOWER.  145 

There  was  a  look  of  scorn  upon  Bertha's  face  and  a 
withering  tone  of  disdain  in  her  voice  when  she  spoke. 
"  Count  Mont  d'Oro,  what  you  have  just  told  me  is  a 
falsehood.  I  know  that  it  is  not  true.  I  have  a  letter 
from  Mrs.  Glynne  in  which  she  tells  me  that  Mr.  De 
Vinne  expressed  his  intention  of  starting  for  Corsica 
at  once.  If  he  has  not  already  arrived,  he  will  be  here 
very  soon.  I  do  not  understand  what  your  motive  has 
been  in  telling  me  such  untruths.  I  do  not  believe  that 
my  guardian  is  here  or  that  he  has  made  you  any  such 
promise  as  you  say  he  has.  While  I  remain  in  your 
mother's  care,  which  I  trust  will  not  be  for  long,  I  will 
try  to  be  civil  to  you,  but  I  do  not  care  to  have  any 
further  conversation  with  you  upon  any  subject  what- 
ever." 

As  she  uttered  the  last  words  the  door  opened  and 
Countess  Mont  d'Oro  entered.  She  took  in  the  situa- 
tion at  a  glance.  Her  son,  as  usual,  was  making  him- 
self disagreeable.  She  had  heard  Bertha's  closing  words 
and  her  womanly  intuition  supplied  the  rest  of  the 
story, 

"  Napier,"  she  said,  "  your  presence  here,  as  I  have 
told  you  many  times,  is  unwelcome  to  me,  and  I  know 
that  it  must  be  to  Mademoiselle  Renville,  from  what  I 
have  just  heard.  If  you  insist  upon  remaining,  it  must 
be  in  your  own  apartments.  I  will  see  that  your  meals 
are  sent  to  you.     Come,  mademoiselle." 

She  took  Bertha's  arm  and  the  two  women  left  the 
room. 

The  Count  stepped  out  upon  the  terrace.  The  hunt 
was  up.  He  had  been  beaten  at  his  own  game.  What 
a  fool  he  had  been  to  say  anything  about  De  Vinne. 
He  had  gone  too  far,  had  said  too  much,  and  had  lost 
all.  Well,  there  were  plenty  of  pretty  women  in  the 
world,  but  this  fair,  young  Miss  Renville  was  so  differ- 
ent from  the  others.  The  case  was  not  hopeless,  after 
aU.    De  Vinne  had  not  arrived,  and  the  guardian  had. 


146  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

He  would  see  the  guardian  and  put  him  on  the  watch. 
Some  plan  could  he  formed,  no  douht,  by  which  the 
lovers  could  be  kept  apart. 

He  descended  the  long  flight  of  steps  and  walked 
towards  the  gateway.  A  horse  was  fastened  to  a  tree 
just  outside.  To  whom  could  it  belong  ?  Perhaps  young 
De  Vinne  had  arrived,  his  mother  knew  it,  and  had 
taken  Madamoiselle  Renville  to  meet  him.  Hearing 
voices,  he  glanced  do\\Ti  a  wooded  path  and  saw  a  young 
man  in  naval  uniform,  and — ^he  was  speaking  to  a  young 
lady.  "Wbo  could  it  be  ?  A  few  quick  strides  down  the 
path  and  he  saw  that  it  was  Vivienne  Batistelli. 

Now,  Count  Mont  d'Oro  knew  in  his  heart  that  he 
did  not  really  love  Vivienne,  but  the  mutual  wish  of 
his  father  and  her  brother  had  been  carried  out  so  far 
as  he  was  able,  and  he  reasoned  that  she  had  no  right  to 
love  anybody  else  and  no  one  else  had  any  right  to  love 
her.  Victor's  words — "  To  see  her  is  to  love  her  " — 
rang  in  his  ears.  Had  matters,  then,  gone  so  far  as 
that?  A  moment  later  the  two  young  men  stood  face 
to  face. 

"  What  right  have  you  to  that  flower  ?  "  demanded  the 
Count,  his  voice  choked  with  passion. 

"  The  right  of  possession,"  said  Victor,  quietly ;  "  but 
what  right  have  you  to  ask  such  a  question  ?  " 

"  I  am  Count  l!»[apier  Mont  d'Oro,  of  Alfieri,"  was 
the  reply. 

"  Such  extreme  confidence  merits  reciprocity,"  said 
Victor.  "  I  am  Lieutenant  Victor  Duquesne  of  His 
Britannic  Majesty's  ship  Osprey,  now  lying  at  anchor 
in  the  harbour  of  Ajaccio." 

"  Where  did  you  get  that  flower  ?  "  cried  the  Count, 
at  the  top  of  his  voice,  his  feelings  evidently  becoming 
ungovernable. 

"  It  was  given  to  me  by  a  young  lady.  She  said  her 
name  was  Vivienne  Batistelli." 

"  Do  you  know  who  she  is  ? " 


A  BLOOD-STAINED  FLOWER.  147 

"  I  only  know,"  said  Victor,  "  that  she  is  beautiful 
in  person  and  charming  in  her  manners.  I  may  have 
been  presumptuous  in  asking  for  the  flower,  but  she 
certainly  excused  it  or  she  would  not  have  given  it  to 
me.  Are  you  well  acquainted  with  her  ?  "  and  Victor 
calmly  regarded  the  angry  face  of  the  Co\mt. 

"  She  is  to  be  the  future  Countess  Mont  d'Oro,"  was 
the  reply.  •  "  She  is  betrothed  to  me  and  has  no  right 
to  give  flowers  or  any  other  token  to  an  absolute 
stranger.     Give  me  that  flower." 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  Victor.  "  If 
the  young  lady  who  was  so  kind  as  to  bestow  it  upon  me 
asks  for  its  return,  I  will  give  it  to  her,  but  nothing 
shall  force  me  to  give  it  to  you." 

"  We  will  see  about  that,"  cried  the  Count,  and  be- 
fore Victor  had  divined  his  intention,  the  enraged  man 
drew  his  stiletto  and  made  a  thrust  at  him.  Victor 
threw  up  his  left  hand  to  ward  off  the  thrust,  receiving 
a  severe  cut  which  bled  freely. 

Physically,  Victor  was  much  more  than  a  match  for 
the  Count.  Grasping  the  latter's  wrist,  he  bent  his 
right  hand  backward  until  the  fingers  loosed  their  hold 
upon  the  stiletto  and  it  fell  to  the  ground.  Victor  gave 
the  weapon  a  vigorous  kick,  and  it  disappeared  from 
sight  in  a  clump  of  bushes.  He  next  gave  the  Count  a 
push  backward,  crying  as  he  did  so : 

"  Xow,  let  me  pass !  " 

But  the  Count  had  reached  that  stage  where  un- 
governable fury  takes  the  place  of  reason.  He  aimed 
a  blow  with  his  fist  at  Victor,  which  the  latter  parried, 
while  with  his  right  hand,  which  was  tightly  clenched, 
he  struck  the  Count  fairly  between  the  eyes  and  felled 
him  to  the  ground. 

In  the  struggle  the  white  rose,  which  had  been  the 
cause  of  contention,  had  fallen  upon  the  ground.  Vic- 
tor picked  it  up,  and  as  he  did  so  he  noticed  that  its  for- 
mer white  petals  were  now  blood-stained.     Her  flower 


148  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

and  his  Wood !    He  unbuttoned  his  coat,  placed  the  rose 
over  his  heart,  and  then  buttoned  the  garment  again. 

Casting  a  contemptuous  look  at  his  late  antagonist, 
who  seemed  to  be  recovering  consciousness,  he  retraced 
his  steps  through  the  wooded  path,  vaulted  over  the 
low  gate,  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  at  a  rapid  rate 
towards  Ajaccio. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

A  DUEL  IN  THE  DAEK. 

Victoe's  horse  was  in  a  decidedly  jaded  condition 
when  he  reached  the  hotel  at  Ajaccio.  The  young  Lieu- 
tenant at  once  sought  an  interview  with  the  Admiral 
and  his  daughter,  and  conveyed  to  them,  in  language 
as  nearly  approaching  that  used  by  Pascal  Batistelli 
as  he  could  remember,  the  latter' s  courteous  invitation 
for  them  to  become  his  guests  at  Batistelli  Castle. 

"  You  call  it  a  castle,"  said  Miss  Helen.  "  Does  it 
resemble  those  of  mediaeval  times,  with  the  moat  about 
it,  and  a  drawbridge  and  portcullis?  How  decidedly 
romantic  that  will  be.  I  shall  have  to  send  an  account 
of  it  to  one  of  the  London  papers." 

"  To  speak  honestly.  Miss  Enright,"  said  Victor,  "  I 
am  little  acquainted  with  the  construction  of  mediaeval 
castles.  I  have  learned  more  from  your  short  descrip- 
tion than  I  ever  knew  before." 

"  I  shall  be  pleased  to  enlighten  you  further,"  said 
Miss  Enright.  "  The  moat  was  a  deep  ditch  filled  with 
water  which  surrounded  the  castle  and  rendered  it  in- 
accessible. The  drawbridge  was  what  its  name  in- 
dicates, and  was  let  down  across  the  moat  in  order  that 
those  who  lived  in  the  castle  could  reach  the  mainland, 
or  return." 

"Ah!  I  see,"  said  Victor,  "without  wetting  their 
feet." 

"  Your  remark.  Lieutenant  Duquesne,"  said  Miss  En- 
right, with  a  frown  which  added  to  the  classic  severity 
of  her  features,  "  is  entirely  irrelevant.  Do  you  wish 
me  to  proceed,  or  shall  we  stop  at  the  drawbridge  ?  " 

149 


160  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  By  no  means,  Miss  Enright.  Do  not  leave  us  upon 
the  drawbridge  or  we  may  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
enemy,  and  I  do  not  care  to  become  a  prisoner." 

"  They  did  not  take  prisoners  in  those  days,"  said 
Miss  Enright.  "  Dead  enemies  cost  nothing  for  the 
keeping.  Besides,  what  they  had  on  them  became  law- 
ful booty.  They  had  not  learned  in  those  days  our  ex- 
pensive manner  of  carrying  on  warfare." 

"  Then  so  much  the  more  reason,"  said  Victor,  "  why 
you  should  point  out  some  means  of  escape  from  that 
drawbridge." 

"  Then,"  said  Miss  Enright,  "  come  within  the  castle 
and  we  will  let  the  portcullis  fall.  Allow  me  to  explain 
that  the  portcullis  was  a  heavy  wooden  gate  or  door, 
made  of  double  timbers  securely  bolted  together.  It 
was  impervious  to  culverins,  and  it  took  a  ponderous 
stone  from  a  catapult  to  shatter  it." 

"  Thank  you.  Miss  Enright,"  said  Victor.  "  !N"ow 
that  we  are  within  the  castle,  with  the  drawbridge  up 
and  the  portcullis  down,  I  beg  you  to  let  them  remain 
where  they  are." 

"  Your  experiences  this  morning,  Lieutenant  Du- 
quesne,  have  made  you  flippant,  and  you  know  I  have 
told  you  many  times  that  I  cannot  endure  useless  levity 
in  a  man — especially  a  young  one.  So  with  your  kind 
permission,  and  that  of  my  honoured  father,  I  will  re- 
tire to  my  own  room." 

"  Yes,  go,  Helen,"  said  the  Admiral,  "  and  I  will 
give  him  a  good  talking  to  when  you  are  gone.  I  am 
half  inclined  to  cashier  him  and  dismiss  him  from  the 
service." 

"  Oh,  do  not  do  that,"  said  Miss  Enright,  her  features 
relaxing  into  a  smile  in  spite  of  her  attempts  to  retain 
her  stem  composure.  "  You  know  the  Lieutenant  and 
I  are  sworn  enemies  and  have  been  since  we  left  Malta, 
where  we  disagreed  as  to  the  sentiments  which  inspired 
the  Knights  of  St  John  of  Jerusalem.     Besides,  his 


A  DUEL  IN  THE  DARK.  151 

crime  is  one  that  calls  for  education  rather  than  con- 
dign punishment." 

After  throwing  this  Parthian  arrow,  she  left  the 
room. 

"  Why  do  you  like  to  plague  Helen  so  ? "  asked  the 
Admiral. 

"  I  don't  enjoy  the  plaguing  part,  but  my  jibes  al- 
ways stir  her  up,  and  I  cannot  but  admire  the  manner 
in  which  she  conducts  both  attack  and  defence."  '■ 

"  I  have  given  her  all  the  education  she  asked  for," 
said  the  Admiral,  "  but  I  som.etimes  wonder  what  would 
become  of  the  world  if  all  the  women  in  it  knew  as  much 
as  Helen  does." 

"  I  don't  think  that  day  will  ever  come,"  said  Victor, 
"  If  it  does,  women  will  become  the  teachers  and  men 
the  students." 

"  But  will  they  ever  learn  to  command  a  frigate  ?  " 
asked  the  Admiral. 

"  If  women  ever  rule  the  world,"  replied  Victor, 
"  there  will  be  no  need  of  either  frigates,  or  armies, 
or  wars.  All  vexed  questions  will  be  settled  by 
diplomacy,  and  no  male  diplomat  can  hope  to  com- 
pete successfully  with  a  woman  in  that  line  of  busi- 
ness." 

"  What  kind  of  a  place  is  it  that  Batistelli  lives 
in  ?  "  asked  the  Admiral. 

"  Oh,"  said  Victor,  "  it  is  a  big  stone  house  with  a 
large  tower  at  each  end.  The  grounds  are  beautiful, 
but  the  interior  of  the  house  looks  cheerless  from  our 
English  point  of  view.  It  lacks  that  cosey,  comfortable 
PAT  which  English  homes  have.  But  Monsieur  Batis- 
telli was  very  polite,  and  evinced  a  most  hospitable  dis- 
position. I  have  no  doubt  that  Miss  Enright  and  your- 
sel  will  greatly  enjoy  a  week's  sojourn  there." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  the  Admiral  "  We  will  go  to- 
morrow. I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you,  Lieutenant,  and 
you  may  have  your  freedom  until  our  return." 


162  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Victor  knew  that,  so  far  as  the  Admiral  was  con- 
cerned, the  interview  was  at  an  ei-d. 

"  JLj  dear  Admiral,"  said  he,  "  may  I  trespass  on 
your  time  for  a  few  minutes  1 " 

"  Why,  certainly,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  have  nothing 
to  do  until  dinner  time,  and  there  is  a  spare  half  hour." 

"  It  will  not  take  that  length  of  time,"  said  Victor. 
"  Monsieur  Batistelli  extended  a  very  polite  invitation 
to  me  to  become  his  guest,  also,  but  I  cannot  accept 
— so  do  not  speak  of  it  to  your  daughter." 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  cried  the  Admiral.  "  Helen  and  I 
would  be  delighted  to  have  you  with  us.  I  know  you 
two  quarrel,  but  I  think  you  both  enjoy  it  I  always 
thought  that  when  I  am  not  around  you  make  up, 
but,  as  soon  as  I  appear  upon  the  scene,  you  feel  obliged 
to  begin  your  warfare  again." 

"  You  are  not  far  from  the  truth,  my  dear  Admiral," 
said  Victor.  "  I  should  be  happy  to  form  one  of  your 
party  were  it  not  for  a  little  affair,  in  which  I  became 
involved  this  morning,  that  must  claim  preference." 

"  An  affair  ?  "  cried  the  Admiral ;  "  not  a  love  affair, 
I  hope!" 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  Victor,  "  something  much  more 
serious — an  affair  of  honour !  " 

He  then  told  the  Admiral  of  his  meeting  with  Vivi- 
enne  Batistelli  and  his  subsequent  encounter  with  Count 
Mont  d'Oro. 

"  These  Corsicans  are  a  hot-blooded  race,  and  he  will 
surely  send  me  a  challenge.  I  shall  be  obliged  to  meet 
him  or  he  will  hold  me  up  as  a  coward.  I  must  secure 
some  one  to  serve  as  second.  Have  I  your  permission. 
Admiral,  to  ask  one  of  my  brother  officers  to  act  in  that 
capacity  ?  " 

The  Admiral  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  seemed 
to  be  considering  the  question  from  several  points  of 
view. 

"  I  should  say  nothing  about  it  on  board  ship,"  he 


A  DUEL  IN  THE  DARK.  168 

began.  "  Perhaps,  after  all,  you  will  not  hear  from  him. 
If  the  matter  becomes  known  to  any  one  on  the  vessel, 
all  will  know  it ;  some  will  write  home  to  England  about 
it,  and  it  may  reach  the  Admiralty.  You  do  not  wish 
that  to  occur,  for  it  would  certainly  retard  your  pro- 
motion. If  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst  and  the  fellow 
challenges  you,  I  will  act  for  you  and  no  one  on  the 
vessel  will  be  the  wiser." 

At  dinner  both  the  Admiral  and  Victor  were  disposed 
to  be  contemplative,  each  thinking  of  the  prospective 
duel  and  its  possible  results.  Victor  was  also  greatly 
disturbed  at  not  seeing  or  hearing  from  Jack.  He  had 
made  diligent  inquiries,  but  without  success.  He  there- 
fore contented  himself  with  the  thought  that  Jack  was 
pursuing  his  quest  of  Cromillian,  or  Bertha,  or  both. 

After  a  long  silence,  Helen,  who  knew  nothing  of  the 
impending  conflict,  started  a  little  battle  on  her  own 
account  by  referring  again  to  mediaeval  customs. 

"  I  yearn,"  said  she,  "  for  a  return  to  the  days  of 
chivalry,  when  brave  knights  fought  for  their  lady-loves. 
To  me,  there  can  be  no  sight  more  inspiring  than  two 
brave  men  contending  for  the  favour  of  some  fair 
maiden  worthy  of  their  love." 

"  Perhaps  the  days  of  chivalry  may  return  once 
more,"  said  Victor. 

"  i^onsense !  "  cried  Helen.  "  In  these  days,  there 
are  few  men  brave  enough  to  face  each  other  in  mortal 
combat.  They  are  content  to  fire  at  each  other  with 
an  intervening  distance  of  half  a  mile  or  more.  Why 
don't  they  do  as  did  Julius  Caesar  and  his  Koman 
warriors — advance  with  drawn  swords  and  fall  boldly 
upon  their  enemies?  It  was  daring,  and  muscle,  and 
swordsmanship  that  won  battles  in  those  days." 

"  And  now  it  is  markmanship,"  said  Victor.  "  You 
know  the  old  saying.  Miss  Enright,  that  times  change 
and  we  change  with  them.  If  we  were  Roman  warriors, 
and  time  could  be  pushed  back  nearly  eighteen  hundred 


154  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

years,  your  sanguinary  wishes  might  be  gratified ;  but, 
as  things  look  now,  the  range  of  arms  will  increase,  and 
armies  and  vessels  will  stay  farther  apart  than  ever 
during  the  progress  of  a  battle." 

"  One  reason  why  I  have  wished  to  come  to  Corsica," 
said  Helen,  "  is  to  learn  about  the  vendetta.  The  spirit 
of  the  old  knights  must  survive  in  this  island." 

"  Xot  at  all !  "  cried  the  Admiral,  taking  part  for  the 
first  time  in  the  discussion.  "  The  miserable  rascals 
dare  not  meet  each  other  in  a  fair  fight,  but  lie  in  am- 
bush and  brutally  assassinate  their  enemies.  I  am  sur- 
prised, Helen,  that  you  should  entertain  such  senti- 
ments." 

"  You  do  not  understand  me,  father,"  said  Helen. 
"  What  I  wish  to  see  is  individual  bravery  rather  than 
collective  heroism.  I  do  not  wish  to  applaud  a  whole 
regiment  or  the  entire  crew  of  a  frigate,  but  the  one  man 
who,  by  his  valiant  prowess,  has  shown  himself  worthy 
of  renown." 

The  dinner  was  over  and  the  discussion  also  came  to 
an  end.  Victor  lighted  a  cigar  and  went  out  upon  the 
veranda  to  think  over  the  matter  which  was  uppermost 
in  his  mind.  Being  very  far-sighted,  he  espied,  a  long 
distance  off,  an  old  building  which  had  a  deserted, 
tumble-do\\Ti  appearance.  He  left  the  veranda  and 
walked  towards  it,  finding  it  much  farther  away  than 
he  had  anticipated. 

He  opened  the  door  and  entered.  It  was  empty.  It 
was,  in  reality,  a  large  shed  which  probably  had  been 
used  as  a  storehouse.  He  closed  the  door  and  found 
himself  in  utter  darkness.  Although  the  building  was 
old,  it  was  surely  well  constructed,  for  there  was  not  a 
seam  or  break  in  it  through  which  the  light  of  the  sun 
could  enter.  He  threw  the  door  open  and  carefully  sur- 
veyed the  interior  once  more.  Across  each  comer  of  the 
structure,  some  six  feet  from  the  ground,  four  heavy 
joists  were  placed,  but  for  what  purpose  Victor  could 


A  DUEL  IN  THE  DARK.  165 

not  divine.  As  he  stood  there,  a  strange  thought  came 
into  his  mind,  and  he  smiled  to  himself  with  inward 
satisfaction. 

On  his  way  back  to  the  hotel,  he  passed  a  cottage, 
in  front  of  which,  seated  at  a  grindstone,  a  man,  evi- 
dently a  woodsman,  was  sharpening  a  number  of  axes. 
Victor  stopped  and  regarded  him.  Then,  he  smiled 
again.  Wliat  he  saw  evidently  pleased  him  and  there 
must  have  been  some  connection  between  the  smile  in 
the  old  shed  and  that  which  showed  upon  his  face  as  he 
stood  regarding  the  woodsman  and  the  implements  of 
his  trade. 

"  My  good  friend,"  said  Victor,  "  will  you  sell  me  a 
couple  of  those  axes — ^the  sharpened  ones,  I  mean  ?  " 

''  You  can  buy  plenty  of  them  in  the  town,"  the  man 
replied. 

"  How  much  would  two  cost  me  ?  "  asked  Victor. 

The  man  named  the  price. 

"  I  will  give  you  twice  as  much  for  two  of  yours," 
said  Victor,  and  the  bargain  was  soon  concluded. 

The  man  found  a  piece  of  old  cloth  in  which  Victor 
could  wrap  up  his  purchases,  and  he  succeeded  in  reach- 
ing his  room  without  his  burden  meeting  the  eye  of  the 
inquisitive.  Then  he  sought  the  Admiral  and  had  a 
short  talk  with  him. 

"  Why,  bless  my  soul !  "  cried  Sir  Gilbert,  "  I  never 
heard  of  such  a  thing  before.  It  is  a  most  re-mark-a- 
ble idea.  I  suppose  what  Helen  said  at  dinner  put  you 
up  to  it.  What  fools  women  can  make  of  men,  to  be 
sure.  Of  course,  I  mean  nothing  personal  by  that,  my 
dear  Lieutenant,  but  I  have  read  history,  or  rather 
Helen  has  read  it  to  me,  and  it  seems  to  me  as  though 
most  of  the  silly  things  that  men  have  done  have  been 
prompted  by  a  desire  to  please  some  woman." 

Victor  was  right  wlien  he  expressed  the  opinion  that 
Count  Mont  d'Oro  would  challenge  him.     The  next 


156  THE  CORSICAN  LOA^RS. 

morning  the  card  of  M.  Frangois  Villefort  was  sent 
up  to  his  room,  and,  when  the  young  man  had  exchanged 
the  customary  courtesies  with  Lieutenant  Duquesne,  he 
stated  that  the  object  of  his  visit  was  to  present  a  mes- 
sage from  his  lifelong  friend,  Count  Napier  Mont 
d'Oro.  Victor  bowed,  said  that  he  had  anticipated  re- 
ceiving such  a  civility  from  the  Count,  and  asked  him  to 
accompany  him  to  the  room  of  his  friend,  Admiral  En- 
right,  who  had  consented  to  act  as  his  second. 

When  M.  Villefort  and  Admiral  Enright  were  alone, 
the  Admiral  began  the  conversation. 

"  In  my  country,"  said  he,  "  the  first  duty  of  a  gentle- 
man called  upon  to  act  in  the  capacity  which  we  have 
assumed  is  to  arrange,  if  possible,  an  honourable  com- 
promise." 

"  In  Corsica,"  replied  M.  Villefort,  "  that  matter  is 
never  considered.  In  fact,  as  you  probably  well  know, 
Corsicans  never  fight  duels  in  Corsica,  but  Count  Mont 
d'Oro  has  lived  for  some  time  in  Paris  and,  assuming 
that  Lieutenant  Duquesne  is  conversant  with  the  French 
code  duello,  the  Count  has  the  courtesy  to  follow  the 
French  custom." 

"  Well,"  said  the  Admiral,  "  then  we  will  consider 
that  part  of  the  subject  closed.  My  friend.  Lieutenant 
Duquesne,  being  the  challenged  party,  has  the  choice  of 
time,  place,  and  weapons.  I  conferred  with  him  upon 
the  subject  previous  to  your  expected  arrival,  and  there 
will,  consequently,  be  no  delay  in  arranging  the  prelim- 
inaries." 

"I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,"  said  M.  Villefort, 
"  for  my  friend.  Count  Mont  d'Oro,  is  anxious  that 
the  insult  given  to  hirn  should  be  avenged  as  soon  aa 
possible." 

"  On  our  part,"  said  the  Admiral,  "  we  shall  be  de- 
lighted to  accommodate  you.  The  time  fixed  upon  is 
midnight,  to-morrow  night;  the  place,  a  vacant  shed 
which  is  in  plain  sight  from  the  veranda  of  the  hotel, 


A  DUEL  IN  THE  DARK.  167 

about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  distant;  the  weapons, 
woodsmen's  axes,  sharpened  by  a  Corsican;  the  contest 
to  last  five  minutes,  and  in  total  darkness.  At  the  end 
of  that  time,  you  and  I  are  to  enter  the  building  with 
lights  and  see  what  remains  of  our  friends." 

"  Allow  me  to  say  that  I  consider  such  levity  unbe- 
coming a  gentleman.  If  your  principal  has  given  you 
instructions  suited  to  an  affair  of  honour,  I  am  here  to 
receive  them." 

"  Exactly !  I  don't  know  what  your  customs  are 
here,  but  in  England  we  do  not  repeat  our  conditions 
more  than  once." 

The  Corsican  was  evidently  impressed  by  the  blunt- 
ness  and  directness  of  the  Englishman's  speech. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  he,  "  but  I  did  not  understand 
what  weapons  had  been  selected  by  the  challenged 
party." 

"  I  thought  I  described  them  sufficiently,"  said  the 
Admiral.  "  I  said  axes, — ordinary  common  woods- 
men's axes — the  sharper  the  better." 

"  And  the  place  ?  "  queried  M.  Villefort 

"  If  you  will  step  to  the  window,"  said  the  Admiral, 
"  I  will  show  you.  Do  you  see  that  old  shed  on  the  left- 
hand  side  of  the  road?  That  is  the  place  selected  by 
Lieutenant  Duquesne.  Time,  midnight  to-morrow 
night,  the  room  to  be  in  utter  darkness,  and  the  fight  to 
last  five  minutes.     Do  I  make  myself  imderstood  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,  monsieur,"  responded  M.  Villefort, 
"  but  I  doubt  very  much  if  the  Count  will  condescend 
to  accept  such  ridiculous  terms.  Did  you  say  that  the 
room  was  to  be  dark  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Admiral ;  "  the  Lieutenant  says 
the  windows  are  boarded  up  tightly  and  not  a  ray  of 
light  enters  even  in  the  daytime.  I  confess  that  they 
are  the  most  re-mark-a-ble  instructions  I  ever  received. 
They  quite  stagger  me,  they  do,  indeed.  But  my  prin- 
cipal says  he  will  not  change  them." 


158  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  I  will  report  the  result  of  my  mission  to  Count 
Mont  d'Oro.     If  he  refuses  to  axjcept  the  terms " 

The  Admiral  broke  in :  "  Why,  then  we  will  let  the 
matter  drop  just  where  it  is ;  but  Lieutenant  Duquesne 
and  myself  will  probably  form  an  opinion  as  to  the 
bravery  of  this  member  of  the  Corsican  nobility,  and  we 
may  express  it  to  others.  You  might  repeat  to  the 
Count  what  I  have  just  said." 

Miss  Helen  Enright  was  both  astute  and  acute.  Her 
father  knew  that,  if  he  left  the  hotel  late  in  the  evening 
and  did  not  return  until  after  midnight,  he  would  be 
obliged  to  make  some  sort  of  an.  explanation  to  his 
daughter. 

"  Better  tell  a  white  lie  than  a  black  one,"  said  he  to 
Victor.  So  it  was  arranged  that  they  should  pay  a 
visit  to  the  Osprey  in  the  afternoon,  giving  Helen  to  un- 
derstand that  they  might  not  return  to  the  hotel  until 
the  next  morning. 

The  night  chosen  was  a  stormy  one.  Heavy  black 
clouds  shut  out  the  light  of  both  moon  and  stars,  and 
from  them  the  rain  descended.  About  eleven  o'clock, 
the  Lieutenant  and  the  Admiral  left  the  Osprey,  pre- 
ceded by  a  sailor  carrying  a  ship's  lantern  to  light  the 
way.  \\Tien  they  had  covered  about  half  the  distance 
between  the  vessel  and  the  hotel,  the  Admiral,  turning 
to  the  sailor,  said : 

"  Give  me  the  lantern,  Markland.  I  will  carry  it 
the  rest  of  the  way.  You  can  find  your  way  back  to 
the  quay  in  the  dark  ?  " 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir !  "  was  the  response.  "  I  have  been  in 
darker  places  than  this  and  came  out  all  right." 

The  Admiral  screened  the  lantern  and  waited  at  the 
comer  of  the  road  for  Victor,  who  went  to  his  room  to 
obtain  the  axes.  They  then  proceeded  on  their  way  to- 
wards the  deserted  building,  the  rain  coming  down  in 
the  proverbial  torrents. 

"I  shall  be  much  cut  up,"  said  Victor,  "if  thig 


A  DUEL  IN  THE  DARK.  16d 

wetting  gives  you  a  cold  and  an  attack  of  rheuma- 
tism." 

"  If  you  don't  get  cut  up,"  said  the  Admiral,  "  I  will 
try  to  bear  the  rheumatism  with  patience." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Victor ;  "  you  have  always  been  a 
kind  and  good  friend  to  me.  My  course  in  this  matter, 
no  doubt,  seems  inexplicable  to  you,  but  I  have  a  reason 
for  it  which,  some  day,  I  will  explain." 

"  My  curiosity  can  wait,"  said  the  Admiral,  "  but  I 
cannot  promise  as  much  if  Helen  gets  wind  of  the  af- 
fair." 

They  were  the  first  to  reach  the  building.  They  both 
entered  and  examined  it  thoroughly.  The  Admiral 
screened  the  lantern  and  looked  about  him.  "  It's  as 
dark  as  a  pocket,"  said  he.  Victor  caught  one  of  the 
crossbeams  with  both  hands  and  drew  himself  up  until 
his  chin  was  even  with  it.  Then  he  allowed  himself  to 
descend  without  attracting  the  attention  of  the  Ad- 
miral. They  went  outside  and,  standing  beneath  the 
wide-spreading  branches  of  a  great  tree,  awaited  the  ar- 
rival of  the  other  party. 

About  ten  minutes  before  midnight,  the  sound  of 
horses'  hoofs  and  carriage  wheels  were  heard,  and,  a 
few  minutes  later.  Count  Mont  d'Oro  and  M.  Villefort 
approached  the  building.  As  they  did  so,  the  Admiral 
turned  the  full  glare  of  the  lantern  in  their  faces. 

The  usual  courtesies  were  exchanged  and  the  four 
men  stood  expectantly,  the  Admiral  holding  his  watch 
so  that  the  light  from  the  lantern  could  fall  upon  it. 
Suddenly,  he  looked  up  and  said : 

"  It  is  twelve  o'clock,  gentlemen." 

The  party  entered  the  building,  the  Admiral  holding 
up  the  lantern  so  that  tlie  interior  could  be  examined 
by  the  Count  and  his  second.  Next,  he  took  the  axes 
from  the  cloth  in  which  they  had  been  wrapped  and 
passed  them  to  M.  Villefort. 

"  Take  your  choice,"  said  he.     "  As  near  as  I  can 


160  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

judge,    they    are    of    the    same    weight    and    equally 
sharp." 

M.  Villefort  selected  one  which  he  passed  to  Count 
Mont  d'Oro,  while  the  Admiral  handed  the  other  to 
Victor.  The  contestants  were  then  placed  in  opposite 
comers  of  the  room,  facing  each  other. 

"  Are  you  ready  ?  "  asked  the  Admiral. 

The  duellists  signified  that  they  were. 

"  Monsieur  Villefort  and  I  will  now  leave  you,"  said 
the  Admiral.  "  As  soon  as  we  close  the  door,  you  are  at 
liberty  to  change  your  positions,  but  you  must  not  at- 
tack each  other  until  you  hear  us  cry  Time!  Five 
minutes  thereafter,  we  shall  open  the  door,  and  the  con- 
test must  stop  as  soon  as  you  see  the  light." 

In  about  a  minute,  the  Admiral  and  M.  Villefort 
cried  in  unison: 

"TIME!" 

Count  Mont  d'Oro  scuffled  his  feet  upon  the  floor  to 
give  his  opponent  the  idea  that  he  had  changed  his  posi- 
tion. Victor  stood  his  axe  up  in  the  corner,  reached  the 
beam  above  him  with  both  hands,  drew  himself  up 
slowly,  and  assumed  a  sitting  posture  upon  it.  The 
Count  struck  out  vigorously  in  front  and  to  the  right 
and  left.  He  then  took  a  circuit  around  the  room, 
striking  out  in  front,  and  then  whirling  about,  he  made 
vicious  slashes  at  his  unseen  enemy.  He  next  swung 
the  axe  about  in  a  circle,  but  it  met  with  no  resistance. 

Victor  sneezed  loudly.  This  so  startled  the  Count, 
for  the  sound  seemed  very  close  to  him,  that  he  started 
back,  coming  in  violent  contact  with  the  side  of  the 
building,  bruising  himself  quite  severely.  He  then  ad- 
vanced cautiously  on  tiptoe  across  the  room.  As  he 
neared  the  comer  where  Victor  was,  the  latter  took  his 
hat  from  his  head  and  threw  it  down,  necessarily  at 
random.  It  chanced  to  strike  the  Count  full  in  the 
face.  He  started  back,  a  cry  of  affright  escaping  from 
him  involuntarily.  The  Fates  were  against  him.  There 


A  DUEL  IN  THE  DARK.  161 

was  just  one  rotten  plank  in  the  floor  of  the  building, 
and  upon  that  the  Count  stepped.  It  broke  beneath  his 
weight.  Finding  himself  falling,  and  realising  that  his 
foot  was  caught  in  some  way,  he  gave  a  I'iolent  pull  and 
succeeded  in  wrenching  his  ankle  so  badly  that  when  he 
tried  to  stand  up  he  was  forced  to  succumb  to  the  in- 
tense pain,  and  fell  prone  upon  the  floor. 

Realising  that  his  opponent  had  met  with  some  mis- 
adventure, Victor  dropped  from  his  perch,  and,  grasp- 
ing his  axe,  stood  upon  the  defensive.  At  that  moment, 
the  door  was  pushed  open  and  the  bright  light  of  the 
lantern  thrown  upon  the  scene. 

M.  Villefort  espied  the  form  of  the  Count  upon  the 
floor  and,  rushing  to  him,  gave  him  a  sup  of  brandy 
from  a  flask  which  he  had  thoughtfully  brought  with 
him.  The  Admiral  paid  no  attention  to  the  Count, 
but  sought  the  comer  where  Victor  stood. 

"  Bless  my  soul!  "  cried  the  Admiral.  "  Are  you  a 
whole  man  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so,  but  somewhat  played  out,"  said  Victor, 
and  he  leaned  heavily  upon  the  axe  handle. 

"  But  are  you  sure  that  you  have  all  your  limbs  about 
you?" 

"  I  think  so.  Two  legs  and  two  arms  are  the  usual 
complement,  I  believe." 

"  No  gashes  in  your  head  or  back  ?  " 

"  No,  I  think  not  Oh,  there  is  my  hat !  "  and  he 
stepped  forward  and  picked  it  up. 

"  Well,"  cried  the  Admiral,  "  it  is  really  the  most  re- 
mark-a-ble  preservation  from  death  I  ever  heard  of  in 
all  my  life." 

"  I  must  trouble  you,  Admiral  Enright,"  said  M. 
Villefort,  "  to  assist  me  in  getting  Count  Mont  d'Oro 
to  his  carriage.  For  reasons  which  you  can  under- 
stand, I  do  not  wish  to  call  the  coachman,  who  is  un- 
aware of  the  nature  of  our  visit  here  at  this  unseemly 
hour." 


162  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  Admiral,  "  in  the  hour  of  de- 
feat, the  unfortunate  can  always  count  upon  my  sym- 
pathy and  assistance." 

Supported  by  the  two  men,  the  Count  limped  slowly 
towards  the  door,  evidently  suffering  greatly.  Before 
he  reached  it,  Victor  stepped  forward : 

"  Do  you  acknowledge  satisfaction.  Count  Mont 
d'Oro?" 

The  Count's  face  was  contorted  with  pain  and,  for  a 
moment,  he  did  not  reply.  Then,  he  almost  hissed  out 
the  words : 

"  From  an  English  point  of  view — yes — ^but  not  from 
a  Corsican.     We  shall  meet  again!  " 

When  the  Admiral  returned,  he  took  up  the  lantern. 

"  Are  you  going  to  take  the  axes  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  said  Victor,  "  we  will  leave  those  for  the  rent 
of  the  building." 

That  night,  in  the  solitude  of  his  own  room,  he  took 
from  its  hiding-place  the  white  rose  with  the  blood- 
stained petals.    Her  rose  and  his  blood ! 

"  Sweet  emblem  of  peace  and  love,  thou  art  my  talis- 
man against  evil,  and,  for  her  dear  sake,  these  hands 
shall  never  be  stained  by  the  blood  of  one  whom  she 
loves.    I  swear  it !  " 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


ANCESTEAX    PKIDE. 


Ajaccio,  Alfieri,  and  Cromillian's  camp  formed  thw 
angles  of  an  equilateral  triangle ;  in  other  words,  it  was 
about  five  miles  from  Ajaccio  to  Alfieri;  it  was 
another  five  miles  from  Alfieri  to  Cromillian's  camp. 
The  two  members  of  his  band,  however,  who  formed 
Andrea  Fortier's  escort,  for  Jack  had  given  his  assumed 
name  to  his  companions,  were  too  well  acquainted  with 
the  country  and  too  anxious  to  reach  camp  to  travel  ten 
miles  when  they  knew  that,  by  a  short  cut  over  the 
mountains  and  up  the  ravine,  the  distance  was  not  more 
than  five. 

If  some  of  the  residents  of  Ajaccio,  who  had  expe- 
rienced a  taste  of  Cromillian's  justice,  had  known  that 
his  camp  was  in  such  close  proximity  to  the  town,  they 
would  certainly  have  tried  to  induce  the  officers  of  the 
law  to  attempt  his  capture.  Yet,  this  would  have  been 
hard  to  effect.  They  would  have  had  to  rely  upon  the 
gens  d'armes  who,  although  they  could  not  shirk  duty 
when  called  upon  to  arrest  a  person  within  the  limits 
of  the  town,  were  decidedly  averse  to  invading  the 
maquis.  The  bandits  were  such  good  shots,  had  such 
far-reaching  rifles,  and,  besides,  had  such  a  way  of  firing 
from  behind  trees  and  stone  walls,  that  the  gens 
d'armes  always  scouted  the  idea  of  their  being  able  to 
capture  a  bandit,  and  their  officers  were  not  loath  to 
embrace  the  same  opinion. 

It  was  after  midnight  when  Jack  and  his  escort 
reached  Cromillian's  camp.  He  was  at  once  taken  into 
the  presence  of  the  Chief  who,  seated  in  a  little  grove, 


164  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

was  writing  by  the  light  of  a  fire.  Jack  presented  the 
letter  given  to  him  by  Victor,  which  Cromillian  opened 
and  read. 

Thomas  Glynne,  who  had  followed  close  upon  the 
heels  of  Jack  and  his  companions,  was  very  anxious  to 
learn  the  reason  for  the  young  man's  visit,  under  such 
circumstances,  to  this  particular  locality.  He  ap- 
proached the  camp,  skulking  behind  one  tree  and  then 
another,  when  a  firm  hand  from  behind  grasped  his  coat 
collar,  and  he  was  hurled  violently  to  the  ground.  He 
attempted  to  rise,  but  found  himself  surrounded  by 
four  heavily  bearded,  fierce-looking  men,  who  grasped 
him  and,  without  saying  a  word,  took  him  at  once  to 
the  little  grove  where  Cromillian  sat. 

Thomas  Glynne  looked  at  Jack,  who  returned  the 
gaze,  and  instantly  recognised  the  man  whom,  of  all  on 
earth,  he  least  desired  to  see.  The  thought  occurred  at 
once  to  each,  "  Why  is  he  here  ?  "  but  neither  could 
answer  the  question. 

Cromillian  looked  up.  "  Monsieur  Andrea  For- 
tier,"  said  he,  addressing  Jack,  "  my  thanks  are  due  you 
for  the  great  service  which  you  have  rendered  one  of 
my  band.  This  letter,  although  addressed  to  me,  is  for 
another  person.  He  cannot  read,  but  I  will  communi- 
cate the  contents  to  him  and  will  write  his  reply,  which 
you  can  take  back  to  him  to-morrow.  See  that  he  has 
food  and  a  bed — the  best  we  can  afford,"  and  Cromillian 
waved  his  hand  towards  the  two  men  who  had  accom- 
panied Jack  to  the  camp. 

As  soon  as  Jack  had  departed,  Cromillian  turned  to 
the  four  captors  of  Thomas  Glynne. 

"  Whom  have  we  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

GljTme  felt  that  it  was  a  crucial  time  vtdth  him.  Ho 
must  tell  a  good  story,  or  the  bandits  might  look  upon 
him  as  a  spy  and  treat  him  in  a  summary  manner.  He 
was  naturally  bold  and  resourceful,  and  he  now  sum- 
moned all  his  wits  to  his  aid. 


ANCESTRAL  PRIDE.  166 

"  Will  YOU  allow  me  to  ask  a  question  ?  "  he  said,  ad- 
dressing Cromillian. 

The  latter  nodded. 

"  What  did  that  young  man  who  brought  the  letter  to 
you  say  his  name  was  ?  " 

"  He  gave  the  name  of  Andrea  Fortier,"  Cromillian 
replied. 

"  That  is  not  his  real  name,"  cried  Glynne.  "  My 
name  is  Thomas  Glynne.  I  am  an  Englishman.  Hia 
name  is  Jack  De  Vinne  and  he,  too,  is  an  Englishman. 
He  caused  my  ward,  Bertha  Renville,  to  run  away  and 
he  is  here  to  join  her.  I  promised  her  father  on  his  dy- 
ing bed  that  I  would  be  a  father  to  her  and  protect  her. 
This  Andrea  Fortier,  as  he  calls  himself,  is  of  low 
origin,  while  she  is  a  girl  of  wealth  and  refinement. 
He  seeks  but  her  fortune,  and  I  appeal  to  you  for 
justice." 

"  Take  him  away,"  cried  Cromillian,  "  and  bring  the 
other  man  here." 

His  commands  were  quickly  carried  out  and  Jack, 
who  left  his  supper  unfinished,  once  more  stood  before 
Cromillian. 

"  What  did  you  say  your  name  was  ? "  asked  Cro- 
millian. 

Jack,  who  had  no  idea  of  what  had  been  said  by 
Glynne  in  his  absence,  replied :  "  Andrea  Fortier." 

Cromillian  smiled  grimly.  "  I  mean  your  real  name, 
young  man.    I  know  what  it  is,  or  I  think  I  do." 

It  immediately  dawned  upon  Jack  that  Thomas 
Glynne  had  told  some  sort  of  a  story  in  order  to  explain 
his  presence  near  the  bandit  camp,  and  he  resolved  to 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it  and  tell  the  whole  truth. 

"  Sir,"  he  began,  "  I  assumed  the  name  of  Andrea 
Fortier  as  I  did  not  wish  my  presence  here  to  become 
known  to  the  man  who  has  just  left  you.  This  I  ex- 
plained to  Lieutenant  Duquesne,  who  intrusted  me  with 
the  letter  which  I  delivered  to  ypu.     My  real  name  ia 


166  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

John  De  Vinne.  I  am  a  Englishman.  I  am  in  love 
with  the  ward  of  the  man  Glynne.  Because  of  dislike 
and  dissatisfaction  she  left  his  home,  from  no  suggestion 
of  mine,  as  I  knew  nothing  whatever  about  it  until  she 
arrived  in  Paris.  Her  guardian  is  withholding  from 
her  facts  relative  to  the  wealth  left  her  by  her  father, 
and  is  using  every  endeavour  to  keep  it  in  his  own 
hands.  She  fears  her  guardian,  and  I  am  here  to  pro- 
tect her  and,  if  possible,  make  her  my  wife.  I  am  well 
connected  and  am  amply  able  to  give  her  the  position  in 
life  to  which  she  is  entitled.  This  man,  her  guardian, 
must  have  followed  me  from  Ajaccio. 

"  Owing  to  a  combination  of  circumstances  which 
it  would  take  a  long  time  to  relate,  the  young  lady  went 
to  Paris  to  avail  herself  of  the  protection  of  Countess 
Mont  d'Oro,  an  old  friend  of  her  father's.  She  is  now 
visiting  the  Countess  at  Alfieri.  We  both  learned  of 
her  presence  here  and  each  of  us  has  come  to  claim 
her.  I  have  not  seen  her  as  yet,  nor  do  I  think  he  has. 
Sir,  that  is  the  whole  story." 

"  I  believe  you  have  spoken  the  truth,  young  man," 
said  Cromillian.  "  The  guardian  has  told  an  entirely 
different  story,  which  may  or  may  not  be  true.  If 
yours  is  true,  his  is  false.  If  his  is  true,  yours  is 
false.  When  in  doubt,  I  always  settle  the  matter  for 
myself.  I  will  go  to  Alfieri,  see  this  Mademoiselle 
Kenville  and  her  chaperon,  the  Countess,  and  find  out 
which  of  the  stories  is  true.  In  the  meantime,  both  you 
and  her  guardian  will  be  obliged  to  remain  with  my 
band  and,  necessarily,  share  our  comforts  and  discom- 
forts, the  latter  predominating." 

He  sent  for  Paoli  and  gave  him  a  strict  command 
that  neither  Glynne  nor  Jack  should  be  allowed  to  leave 
camp  until  permission  came  from  him. 

The  next  morning,  Paoli  asked  Cromillian  if  there 
was  anything  special  on  hand  for  that  day. 

"  I  have  not  seen  my  old  mother  for  three  months, 


ANCESTRAL  PRIDE.  167 

and  I  thought,  if  you  could  spare  me,  I  should  like  to 
make  her  a  visit" 

"  Go,  by  all  means,"  said  Cromillian.  "  I  know  of 
nothing  now  that  will  require  your  services,  partic- 
ularly. I  am  sorry  I  cannot  send  that  young  fellow 
who  brought  the  letter  last  night  back  with  the  answer. 
Can  you  pick  me  out  a  good  man  who  can  disguise 
himself  so  well  that  the  gens  ctarmes  at  Ajaccio  will 
not  recognise  him  ?  If  you  can,  send  him  here.  I  do 
not  care  to  know  who  he  is." 

An  hour  later,  an  apparently  old  man,  with  long 
white  hair,  a  bent  figure,  and  a  wrinkled  face,  presented 
himself  to  Cromillian  and  said,  in  a  squeaky  voice : 

"  I  was  sent  by  Paoli." 

Cromillian  did  not  speak,  but  handed  him  a  letter 
addressed  to  Lieutenant  Victor  Duquesne,  at  the  hotel 
at  Ajaccio. 

"  Bring  back  an  answer,"  said  Cromillian.  The  old 
man  bowed  and  withdrew. 

The  bearer  of  the  missive  appeared  old  and  decrepit 
until  he  was  beyond  the  borders  of  the  camp.  Then 
he  suddenly  developed  an  agility  entirely  at  variance 
with  his  aged  appearance,  for  he  ran  at  full  speed  along 
the  road  which  led  to  his  destination.  Hearing  a  woods- 
man singing  at  his  work,  he  quickly  resumed  the  ap- 
pearance of  old  age  and  maintained  it  until  he  was  out 
of  sight  of  the  wielder  of  the  axe. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  hotel,  he  learned  that  Lieu- 
tenant Duquesne  was  in  his  room.  He  refused  to  state 
his  business,  saying  that  what  he  had  to  deliver  he 
must  place  in  the  Lieutenant's  hands  himself.  So 
Victor  told  the  servant  to  have  him  shown  up  to  his 
room. 

The  old  man  sat  down  while  Victor  read  his  letter. 
It  was  with  difficulty  that  he  refrained  from  exhibiting 
physical  signs  of  astonishment  at  its  contents  and,  on 
several  occasions,  he  came  near  giving  audible  vent  to 


168  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

his  feelings.  He  restrained  himself,  however,  and  only 
the  play  of  his  naturally  expressive  features  gave  any 
indication  of  what  was  passing  in  his  mind. 

"  There  was  to  be  an  answer,  to  show  that  I  delivered 
the  letter  to  the  proper  party,"  said  the  old  man. 

Victor  wrote,  folded,  and  sealed  the  missive  and 
placed  it,  with  a  silver  coin,  in  the  man's  hand. 

"  Take  it  to  the  one  who  sent  you,"  was  Victor's  part- 
ing admonition. 

The  old  man  thanked  him.  Victor  opened  the  door, 
and,  standing  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  watched  the 
aged  messenger  as  he  went  slowly  down  and  out  into 
the  street.  Then  Victor  returned  to  his  room  and  read 
and  re-read  his  letter  until  the  words  and  the  lines  be- 
came blurred  and  he  could  see  no  more. 

It  began : 

"  My  Deae  Vandemak  : 

"  You  will  no  doubt  be  surprised  when  you  see  the 
name  upon  the  outside  of  this  letter,  and  then  compare 
it  with  the  one  which  you  have  just  read,  upon  learning 
that  it  means  one  and  the  same  individual.  You  will 
also,  no  doubt,  be  surprised  to  learn  that  your  right 
name  is  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia,  instead  of  Victor 
Duquesne,  and  that  your  father's  name  is  not,  and  never 
was.  Hector  Duquesne,  but  the  one  which  you  will  find 
at  the  end  of  this  letter." 

Vandemar  looked  and  read  the  name — Manuel  Delia 
Coscia. 

"  An  explanation  is  due  you,  my  son.  Seventeen 
years  ago,  a  man  named  Conrad  Batistelli  was  found 
dead  in  one  of  his  fields,  and  the  evidence  pointed  to 
me  as  the  murderer.  There  was  no  vendetta  between 
our  families,  and  I  could  not  have  pleaded  that  in  justi- 
fication. I  did  not  commit  the  deed.  The  one  who  did 
is  dead  and  cannot  exonerate  me.  In  order  to  save  him, 
I  consented  to  leave  the  island  and  take  you  with  me. 


ANCESTRAL  PRIDE.  169 

I  did  not  care  for  my  own  life,  but  I  did  not  wish  to  see 
yours  cut  short  by  the  hand  of  the  assassin. 

"  I  have  sent  for  you  to  come  to  Corsica  because  I 
wish  to  prove  my  innocence  and  to  restore  to  you  the 
noble  name  which  is  your  birthright.  There  is  no  older 
family  on  the  island  than  that  of  Delia  Coscia,  and  no 
young  Corsican  can  boast  a  prouder  lineage  of  noble  and 
patriotic  men.  Your  ancestors  were  Corporals,  and  the 
honour  of  their  names  descends  and  rightfully  belongs 
to  you. 

"  Beware  of  the  Batistellis.  They  are  your  sworn 
foes,  and  seek  your  life.  Be  wary  and  commit  no  indis- 
cretion. Above  all,  do  not  allow  yourself  to  be  en- 
trapped. I  will  see  you  soon,  but  I  must  choose  the 
time  and  place.  Do  not  leave  Corsica  until  I  have  seen 
you.     Until  then, 

"  Your  loving  father, 

"  Manuel  Della  Coscia." 

The  aged  messenger  who  had  brought  the  letter  to 
Vandemar,  and  who  had  the  reply  in  his  possession, 
walked  slowly  along  the  main  street  of  Ajaccio,  accost- 
ing no  one,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  left.  When 
he  reached  the  Batistelli  castle,  he  made  his  way  to  the 
servants'  quarters  and  asked  to  see  Manassa. 

In  response  to  his  summons,  a  man  appeared  whose 
white  hair  and  wrinkled  skin  indicated  that  he  was  very 
old,  but  whose  erect  figure  and  strenuous  walk  both 
seemed  to  deny  the  imputation.  He  was  a  man  of  great 
stature,  apparently  still  retaining  marked  bodily 
strength.  He  must  have  been  handsome  in  his  youth, 
and  was  still  attractive  and  commanding  in  appearance. 

"  I  wish  to  see  your  master,  Pascal  Batistelli,"  said 
the  messenger. 

"He  is  busy  in  his  library,"  was  Manassa's  reply. 
"  Come  again  some  other  time." 

"  Lean  down  and  I  will  teU  you  something." 


170  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Manassa  complied.  A  smile,  fiendish  in  its  nature, 
went  over  his  face.  He  nodded  his  head  a  dozen  times, 
chuckling  as  he  did  so. 

"  Come  with  me,"  he  said.  "  My  master  will  be  glad 
to  see  you." 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  asked  Pascal  Batistelli,  as  Cro- 
millian's  messenger  approached  the  table  where  he  sat. 

The  man  looked  to  see  if  Manassa  had  left  the  room. 
Assuring  himself  of  the  fact,  he  asked : 

"  Will  you  keep  my  secret  if  I  tell  you  who  I  am  ? 
It  will  pay  you  to  do  so  and  will  injure  you  if  you  do 
not." 

"  Under  those  circumstances,  I  will  give  you  my 
word,"  said  Pascal. 

"  I  am  Paoli,  Cromillian's  lieutenant." 

Pascal  started  to  his  feet,  crying :  "  What  are  yon 
here  for?  What  business  have  I  with  you  or  your 
leader's  gang  of  thieves  and  cut-throats  ?  " 

"  Xot  so  fast,  my  good  sir,"  said  Paoli.  "  We  may 
injure  some,  but  we  benefit  others,  and  I  have  come 
here  to  do  you  a  great  favour." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  Pascal,  "  but  go 
on,"  and  he  sank  back  into  his  chair. 

"  You  have  heard,  I  suppose,"  said  Paoli,  "  that 
Vandemar  Delia  Coscia,  whose  father  murdered  yours, 
was  about  to  be  foolish  enough  to  come  back  to  Corsica. 
What  would  you  say  if  I  told  you  that  both  Vandemar 
and  his  father  were  now  on  the  island." 

"  I  should  say  that  you  lied !  "  cried  Pascal. 

"  Let  it  go  that  way  then,"  Paoli  coolly  replied.  "  I 
know  Vandemar  is  here,  for  I  have  seen  him.  l^o  one 
who  had  known  a  Delia  Coscia  could  mistake  him.  I 
am  sure,  too,  that  the  father  is  here;  I  don't  yet  know 
where  he  is,  but  I  shall  find  him.  If  I  put  you  on  their 
track,  what  do  I  get  ?  " 

"  A  hundred  louis  d'or  for  each,"  cried  Pascal  Batis- 
telli. 


ANCESTRAL  PRIDE.  171 

"  Will  you  put  it  in  writing?  "  asked  Paoli. 

"  iN^o,"  said  Pascal,  "  the  word  of  a  Batistelli  is  suf- 
ficient." 

It  was  about  five  o^clock  in  the  afternoon  when 
the  old  man  again  presented  himself  to  Cromillian  and 
handed  him  the  letter  which  Vandemar  had  written, 
and  which  he  had  most  carelessly  and  incautiously  ad- 
dressed to  Manuel  Delia  Coscia. 

Cromillian  looked  at  the  superscription,  and  then 
said: 

"  I  will  see  that  this  letter  reaches  the  party  to 
whom  it  is  addressed." 

The  old  man  bowed  once  more,  and  soon  vanished 
among  the  trees. 

Cromillian  looked  again  at  the  superscription  on  the 
letter. 

"  Young  and  thoughtless !  "  he  ejaculated.  "  Head- 
strong and  brave,  too,  or  he  would  not  be  true  to  his 
name." 

He  placed  the  letter  inside  of  his  jacket  and  walked 
briskly  into  the  dense  wood,  nor  did  he  stop  until  he 
was  fully  a  mile  from  the  camp.  He  then  threw  him- 
self upon  the  turf,  broke  the  seal,  and  read  the  fol- 
lowing : 

"  My  Deae  Eathee  : 

"  I  was  not  only  surprised  but  delighted  to  receive 
your  letter.  I  have  never  felt  that  I  was  of  French 
birth,  and  I  knew  I  was  not  English.  I  am  glad  to  know 
that  I  am  a  Corsican.  I  never  knew  before  what  ances- 
tral pride  was,  but  now  it  surges  over  my  heart  like  the 
waves  of  the  ocean.  Do  not  fear  that  I  will  leave  Cor- 
sica before  we  meet.  If  the  vessel  sails,  I  will  en- 
deavour to  get  a  furlough.  If  I  cannot,  I  shall  resign 
my  position  in  the  British  Kavy  and  devote  my  life  to 
proving  your  innocence  and  reclaiming  my  heritage.  I 
do  not  fear  the  Batistellis.    I  hear  that  one  is  a  coward 


172  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

and  the  other  a  drunkard,  but  the  daughter  is  an  ana^el, 
who  is  betrothed  to  a  devil  named  Count  Mont  d'Oro. 
I  will  keep  away  from  them. 

"  Ever  your  loving  and  dutiful  son, 

"  Vandemab  Della  Coscia." 

It  was  long  after  dark  when  Paoli  reported  for  duty 
to  his  chief. 

"  How  is  your  mother  ?  "  asked  Cromillian. 

"  But  poorly,"  was  Paoli's  reply.  "  I  do  not  think 
that  she  can  live  much  longer.  She  made  m^  promise 
that  I  would  come  to  see  her  again  in  a  week." 

"  And  you  must  go,"  said  Cromillian.  "  Bad  men, 
as  well  as  good  men,  usually  have  good  moiliers,  and 
wickedness  in  a  son  can  be  atoned  for  greatly  by  filial 
tenderness." 

"  How  did  the  messenger  succeed  with  his  errand  ?  " 
asked  Paoli. 

"  Completely,"  said  Cromillian.  "  I  have  had  a  long 
walk.  I  am  tired  and  footsore,  for  I  had  to  go  a  long 
way  from  here  to  find  the  one  who  vsrrote  the  letter 
which  I  sent,  and  to  whom  the  reply  belonged." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  LIFE  FOE  A  LIFE. 

"  Where  were  you  last  night  ?  "  asked  Helen  of  her 
father,  the  morning  after  the  duel.  "  I  had  one  of  my 
nervous  attacks  and  went  to  your  room  to  get  the  remedy 
which  I  knew  was  in  your  portmanteau.  It  was  rain- 
ing hard.  I  remained  in  your  room  until  half-past 
twelve.  I  slept  little,  but  supposed  you  were  on  the 
vessel.  I  went  to  your  room  again  at  four  o'clock  and 
found  the  door  locked.  Why  did  you  come  home  from 
the  vessel  at  such  an  unseemly  hour  ?  " 

The  Admiral  attempted  to  explain  .matters  without 
disclosing  the  real  reason  for  his  absence  from  home,  but 
his  daughter  subjected  him  to  a  line  of  cross-questioning 
which  left  his  story,  at  the  close,  in  a  most  pitiable  con- 
dition as  regarded  probability  and  continuity.  Fi- 
nally, in  a  state  of  mental  despair,  the  Admiral  cried: 

"  Well,  Helen,  I'll  tell  you  the  truth.  The  fact  is, 
Victor  had  a  quarrel  with  a  Corsican  and  they  fought 
a  duel.  I  didn't  wish  it  to  become  known  on  the  ship, 
80  I  acted  as  his  second.  Now  you  have  the  whole  of  it, 
so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  If  you  wish  to  know  more, 
get  it  from  Victor." 

In  a  short  time,  Victor's  well-known  double  knock 
was  heard  at  the  door.  No  sooner  had  he  entered  than 
Helen  began  questioning  him  in  regard  to  the  duel. 
He  did  not  feel  disposed  to  disclose  the  real  cause  of 
his  first  controversy  with  Count  Mont  d'Oro.  He  sim- 
ply said  that  the  Count  insulted  him  and  he  knocked 
him  doAvn. 

"  Of  course,  I  expected  a  challenge,"  he  continued, 
173 


174  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  and  we  had  it  out  in  good  old-fashioned  style.  I  re- 
membered what  you  said,  Miss  Helen,  about  the  brave 
old  Roman  soldiers,  but  I  could  not  obtain  any  swords 
used  in  the  Gallic  war,  so  I  chose  axes  as  being  the 
nearest  approach  to  them.  It  is  a  wonder  he  did  not 
cut  me  into  pieces,  for  he  fought  like  a  madman." 

"  Bless  my  soul !  "  ejaculated  the  Admiral.  "  As  I 
told  you  at  the  time,  you  had  a  most  re-mark-a-ble 
escape  from  death." 

Helen  could  not  refrain  from  expressing  her  ad- 
miration for  the  young  sailor  who  had  dared  to  meet 
his  enemy  in  single  combat 

"  You  are  a  brave  young  man,  Lieutenant 
Duquesne,"  she  exclaimed,  "  and  for  that  reason,  and 
that  only,  will  I  forgive  you  for  several  very  sarcastic 
remarks  which  you  made  to  me  on  the  way  from  Malta 
to  Genoa." 

"  Miss  Enright,"  said  Victor,  in  the  gravest  possible 
manner,  "  if  I  were  sure  that  you  would  forgive  me  for 
all  my  misdeeds  during  my  acquaintance  with  you,  I 
should  not  hesitate  to  fight  a  duel  every  day  for  a 
week." 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  such  a  course  would  balance  the 
account,"  said  Helen,  "  but  I  am  very  glad  that  I  came 
to  Corsica.  It  is  my  constant  desire  to  see  or  hear 
something  new." 

"  Thus  reassured,"  said  Victor,  "  I  will  take  you 
both  into  my  confidence.  Since  my  arrival  here,  I  have 
learned  what  was,  to  me,  a  most  surprising  piece  of  in- 
telligence. My  father,  whom  I  have  seen  but  once  since 
I  was  six  years  of  age,  is  now  in  Corsica  and  is  coming 
soon  to  Ajaccio  to  meet  me.  If  the  vessel  sails  before 
his  arrival,  I  shall  have  to  ask  you,  my  dear  Admiral, 
for  a  furlough.  If  you  cannot  grant  it,  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  resign  my  position." 

"  Bless  my  soul !  "  cried  the  Admiral.  "  What  a  re- 
mark-a-ble  idea  that  is  of  yours.     Two  months  still  re- 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LIFE.  176 

main  before  I  am  due  in  England,  and  one  thing  is 
certain,  I  shall  not  accept  your  resignation-  But  how 
did  you  find  out  about  this  ?  " 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  him,"  replied  Victor.  "  He  tells 
me  I  was  bom  in  Corsica.  My  ancestors  were  Cor- 
porals." 

"  Ah,  yes !  "  cried  Helen.  "  I  have  read  about  them. 
,  If  I  remember  correctly,  it  was  sometime  in  the  tenth 
century  that  the  people — worn  out  with  centuries  of 
oppression — rose  against  the  tyrannical  feudal  barons, 
waged  a  successful  war  against  them,  set  up  an  inde- 
pendent government  of  their  own  on  democratic  prin- 
ciples, and  called  their  country  Terra  del  Commune. 
The  oflBcials  were  all  elected  by  the  people,  and  among 
them  were  caporali,  '  corporals  '  or  head  men,  chosen  by 
the  '  Fathers  of  the  Commune  '  to  preside  over  their  lo- 
cal assemblies,  and  to  represent  them  before  the  General 
Council;  being  especially  charged  with  the  defence  of 
the  rights  of  the  people — in  fact,  they  were  the  '  Trib- 
unes of  the  People.'  In  course  of  time  the  office  be- 
came hereditary,  and  the  Corporals  became  a  most 
powerful  class — I  think  I  have  got  it  straight!  " 

"  Your  account  is  historically  correct,"  said  Victor, 
"  and  no  wonder  that  Corsicans  esteem  it  a  great  honour 
to  be  descended  from  these  '  Tribunes  of  the  People,'  as 
you  have  called  them.  No  man  in  Corsica  has  greater 
cause  to  revere  and  worship  his  ancestors  than  I  have." 

"  I  admire  the  Chinese,"  said  Helen,  "  because  of 
their  devotion  to  the  aged  and  the  reverence  which  they 
show  for  their  ancestors.  But  I  fear  it  will  not  be  many 
years  before  these  twin  virtues  will  become  extinct  in 
European  countries." 

"  There  is  another  subject,"  said  Victor ,  "  about 
which  I  wish  to  speak  to  you.  Admiral " — Helen  arose 
from  her  chair — "  and  your  daughter,  too.  Please  re- 
main. Miss  Enright.  It  is  a  matter  in  which  you  are 
fully  as  much  concerned  as  your  father." 


176  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"Do  you  wish  father  to  act  as  your  second  in  an- 
other duel  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  The  course  which  I  have  decided  to  follow,  with 
your  kind  permission,  may  lead  to  one,  and  perhaps 
something  worse.  As  I  told  you.  Admiral,  when  I  took 
Lord  Colton's  letter  of  introduction  to  Monsieur  Pascal 
Batistelli,  he  not  only  expressed  his  pleasure  that  you 
and  your  daughter  were  to  become  his  guests,  but  also 
extended  an  invitation  to  me  to  be  one  of  the  party." 

"  Oh,  do  come !  "  cried  Helen,  impulsively.  A  slight 
flush  oame  to  her  sallow  cheeks.  It  was  seldom  that  she 
said  or  did  anything  without  due  reflection.  Then,  she 
added :  "  With  whom  can  I  quarrel  on  apparently  in- 
consequential points  unless  you  accompany  us  ?  " 

"  Why,  bless  my  soul !  "  cried  the  Admiral,  "  what 
a  re-mark-a-ble  idea  to  leave  us  alone  in  a  strange  coun- 
try, with  no  one  to  protect  us  and  avenge  our  honour  in 
case  we  are  insulted." 

"  I  had  not  intended,"  said  Victor,  "  to  accept  the  in- 
vitation, so  I  asked  you  not  to  mention  it  to  your  daugh- 
ter. Upon  second  thoughts,  which  they  say  are  best, 
I  have  decided  to  go,  if  she  be  willing."  He  turned  to 
Helen :  "  You  have  kindly  settled  my  uncertainty  on 
that  point." 

"  We  had  intended  to  go  to-day,"  said  the  Admiral, 
"  but  Helen  lost  so  much  sleep  last  night  that  I  told 
the  landlord  we  should  remain  another  day." 

Why  had  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia  changed  his  mind  ? 
Since  reading  his  father's  letter,  he  had  given  serious 
thought  to  his  present  situation  and  his  future  actions 
in  what  he  had  learned  was  his  native  land.  If,  as  his 
father  said,  the  Batistellis  were  his  sworn  enemies  and 
would  seek  his  life  as  soon  as  they  discovered  his  iden- 
tity, would  it  not  be  a  wise  course,  he  argued,  to  visit 
them,  now  that  he  was  unknown  to  them,  and  learn  the 
character  of  the  men  with  whom  he  had  to  deal. 

He  did  not  know  that  the  story  was  rife  throughout 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LIFE.  177 

Corsica  that  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia  would  soon  return, 
despite  the  threats  of  his  enemies,  and  claim  his  heri- 
tage. If  he  had  kno^vn  this,  he  probably  would  not 
have  been  so  self-confident  and  would  have  been  satis- 
fied to  remain  in  seclusion  at  the  hotel  until  his  father 
appeared.  The  rumour  about  Vandemar's  intended 
return  had  started,  as  most  rumours  do,  from  nothing. 
One  day,  while  Paoli  was  conversing  with  Cromillian, 
he  remarked  that  if  Manuel  Delia  Coscia  or  his  son 
Vandemar  did  not  return  soon  to  Corsica  and  reclaim 
their  inheritance,  it  would  escheat  to  the  government, 
according  to  the  law. 

"  Don't  you  worry  yourself  about  that,"  Cromillian 
replied.  "  Both  father  and  son  will  be  in  Corsica  be- 
fore they  lose  their  rights." 

The  next  day,  Paoli  told  several  of  his  companions, 
in  strict  confidence,  that  he  had  it  on  the  best  authority 
that  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia  was  coming  back  to  Cor- 
sica, and  on  no  very  distant  day,  either.  So  interesting 
a  rumour  soon  spread  throughout  the  island,  and  there 
were  hundreds  of  sharp  eyes  which  inspected  all 
strangers  carefully. 

While  the  little  party  at  the  hotel  was  waiting  for 
the  time  to  arrive  which  would  mark  its  departure  for 
Batistelli  Castle,  an  interesting  event  was  taking  place 
in  the  rather  humdrum  life  of  their  prospective  host. 

Count  Mont  d'Oro's  coachman,  who  had  driven  him 
to  the  duel,  easily  divined  what  had  taken  place  in  the 
old  shed  that  night.  Villefort  had  given  him  a  louis 
d'or  and  told  him  to  keep  his  mouth  shut,  but  the  coach- 
man spent  the  louis  d'or  for  wine  at  Madame  Valliet's, 
and  when  he  opened  his  mouth  to  drink  the  wine,  he  did 
not  shut  it  again  until  he  had  told  all  that  he  knew,  to- 
gether with  some  fanciful  additions.  Julien  Batis- 
telli, who  was  a  constant  visitor  at  Madame  Valliet's 
cabaret,  heard  the  story,  and,  naturally,  told  it  to  his 
brother.     Pascal  at  once  visited  the  Count  to  express 


178  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

his  sympathy  and  to  ask  whether  he  could  be  of  any 
service. 

It  chanced  that  Bertha  was  passing  her  prescribed 
hour  with  the  Count,  and  was  reading  to  him  when  M. 
Batistelli  was  announced.  She  started  to  leave  the 
room,  but,  before  she  could  do  so,  the  Count  introduced 
his  visitor  and  she  was  obliged  to  remain.  M.  Batis- 
telli was  thought  to  be  insensible  to  the  charms  of 
women,  and  it  was  for  that  reason,  probably,  that  the 
Count  made  him  acquainted  with  Miss  Renville.  To 
the  Count's  surprise,  however,  Pascal  entered  into  an 
animated  conversation  with  Bertha  and  made  himself 
so  agreeable  and  was,  apparently,  so  regardless  of  the 
Count's  suffering  that  the  latter  groaned  loudly — not 
really  from  pain,  but  actually  from  sheer  jealousy.  Be- 
fore leaving,  Pascal  said  that  he  should  take  the  oppor- 
tunity to  pay  his  respects  to  the  Countess,  should  ask 
her  to  visit  them  when  some  expected  guests  arrived, 
and  he  hoped  that  Miss  Renville  would  accompany  her. 

The  fact  was  that  Pascal  Batistelli  had  seen  so  many 
beautiful  women  with  dark  hair,  dark  eyes,  and  the 
complexions  which  belong  to  brunettes,  that  he  was  un- 
able to  pick  out  one  whom  he  thought  would  be  more 
desirable  as  a  wife  than  a  dozen  others. 

But  Bertha  Renville  was  a  revelation  to  him.  He 
had  never  before  seen  a  woman  with  such  hair,  which 
looked  like  gold  when  the  sunlight  fell  upon  it,  and  with 
such  white  hands  and  cheeks,  the  latter  tinted  with  a 
roseate  flush,  and  he  looked  forward  with  fond  anticipa- 
tion to  the  time  when  this  beautiful  English  girl  should 
become  his  guest,  and  the  recipient  of  the  palatial  hos- 
pitality which  he  mentally  resolved  to  lavish  upon 
her. 

After  dinner  on  the  day  when  the  conversation  had 
taken  place  between  Victor  and  the  Admiral  and  his 
daughter,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  the  former  that  he 
:vv'ould  pay  a  visit  to  the  vessel  and  get  his  double-bar- 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LIFE.  179 

relied  fowling-pieoe.  He  told  the  Admiral  of  his  in- 
tention, adding: 

"  You  know  I  am  very  fond  of  shooting  and,  no 
doubt,  there  is  plenty  of  game  in  Corsica." 

"  I  understand,"  said  the  Admiral,  "  that  the  game 
most  sought  after  by  Corsicans  is  human  beings." 

As  he  heard  the  remark,  the  thought  came  quickly  to 
Victor's  mind,  "  I  am  going  into  the  lion's  den,"  but  his 
reply  contained  no  indication  of  the  thought. 

"  I  trust,  my  dear  Admiral,  that  we  shall  not  be 
called  upon  to  take  part  in  a  vendetta,  or  be  the  specta- 
tors of  one,  during  our  visit." 

The  next  morning,  the  aspect  of  nature  and  the  feel- 
ings of  the  Admiral  and  the  others  of  his  party  were  in 
accord,  and,  at  an  early  hour,  a  conveyance,  bearing 
them  and  their  luggage,  was  on  its  way  to  their  destina- 
tion. It  did  not  take  long  for  the  visitors  to  become 
acquainted  with  the  brothers,  Pascal  and  Julien,  and 
their  sister,  Vivienne.  Helen  was  greatly  attracted  by 
and  interested  in  the  beautiful  young  Corsican  girl. 

Julien,  the  younger  brother,  was  a  decidedly  hand- 
some fellow,  and,  when  sober,  was  engaging  and  witty 
in  conversation.  Some  delicate  sparring  took  place  be- 
tween Helen  and  Julien,  and  the  young  lady  found  him 
to  be  no  mean  antagonist  in  the  lingual  battle ;  but  she 
was  decidedly  his  superior  in  historical  knowledge,  and 
poor  Julien  was  finally  discomfited,  he  showing  an  un- 
pardonable lack  of  acquaintance  with  the  early  customs 
of  the  ancient  Persians.  She  was  not  surprised  to  find, 
at  the  end  of  several  days,  that  Vivienne  had  little  love 
for  her  brother  Pascal,  but  bestowed  all  her  affection 
upon  Julien. 

Victor  was  an  interested  observer  of  what  was  go- 
ing on  in  the  house  and  about  it.  He  learned  that 
Countess  Mont  d'Oro  lived  on  the  adjoining  estate,  and 
heard  that  Pascal  Batistelli  and  young  Count  Napier 
were  great  friends.    He  saw  that  Pascal  made  a  dail^ 


180  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

visit  to  the  next  house,  presumably  to  see  Count  Mont 
d'Oro,  who,  he  was  told  by  one  of  the  Batistelli  servants, 
had  sprained  his  ankle  in  alighting  from  his  carriage 
and  was  confined  to  his  room.  Victor  wondered  whether 
Pascal  had  made  their  visit  a  subject  of  conversation. 
If  so,  the  Count  probably  knew  that  his  late  antagonist 
was  in  close  proximity.  If  the  Count  and  Pascal  were 
friends,  and  either  learned  of  his  identity,  they  would 
both  be  his  sworn  enemies.  But  what  did  that  matter, 
after  all  ?  If  the  contest  was  to  come,  it  might  as  well 
take  place  soon  as  later.  He,  however,  remembered 
his  father's  injunction  and  determined  that  the  dis- 
closure should  not  be  made  by  himself.  When  his  ene- 
mies learned  who  he  was,  the  discovery  must  be  due  to 
their  own  acuteness. 

On  the  first  and  second  evenings  following  their  ar- 
rival, Julien  remained  at  home  after  dinner,  and  Helen 
and  he  indulged  in  badinage  and  repartee  in  a  manner 
highly  entertaining  to  their  listeners.  On  the  third  day, 
however,  he  did  not  appear  at  dinner,  nor  during  the 
evening. 

About  ten  o'clock,  the  Admiral  and  Helen  having 
gone  to  their  rooms,  for  the  evening  had  been  a  compar- 
atively dull  one,  Victor  lighted  a  cigar  and  strolled 
through  the  grounds.  As  he  passed  the  entrance  to  the 
wooded  path,  he  looked  down,  wishing,  foolishly,  as  he 
acknowledged  to  himself,  that  he  might  see  Vivienne 
there,  looking  as  beautiful  as  she  did  on  that  eventful 
morning.  He  thought  to  himself  how  delightful  her 
company  would  be  if  they  could  walk  through  the 
garden  which  was  bathed  in  the  soft  rays  of  the  moon. 

He  had  no  idea  how  late  it  was  when  he  heard,  as 
Bertha  had  done  during  her  first  night  in  Corsica,  the 
singing  of  a  band  of  drunken  revellers  on  their  way 
homeward.  He  stepped  into  the  wooded  path,  being 
thus  effectually  concealed  from  view.  The  party  stopped 
at  the  Batistelli  gateway  and  effusive  good-nights  and 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LIFE.  181 

good-byes  were  uttered  by  the  members  of  the  company, 
who,  judging  from  their  manner  of  speech,  were  in 
varying  stages  of  intoxication. 

The  singers  proceeded  on  their  way,  but  one  solitary 
figure,  after  fumbling  for  some  time  at  the  gate,  suc- 
ceeded in  opening  it  and  staggered  along  the  pathway 
which  led  to  the  servants'  quarters.  Then  a  replica  of 
the  scene  which  had  been  viewed  by  Bertha  was  pre- 
sented to  Victor's  astonished  gaze. 

Vivienne,  who  had  evidently  been  waiting  for  the  re- 
turn home  of  her  wayward  brother,  came  out  to  meet 
him,  but,  as  on  the  previous  occasion,  he  repulsed  her 
offer  of  assistance,  and,  in  return  for  her  sisterly  ten- 
derness, cursed  her,  and  pushed  her  from  him. 

Victor  was  so  angry  that  he  was  on  the  point  of  rush- 
ing forward  and  hurling  the  sot  to  the  ground,  when 
he  reflected  that  the  affair  was  no  concern  of  his  and 
that  he  had  no  right  to  interfere.  Julien's  blow,  al- 
though it  staggered  Vivienne,  did  not  cause  her  to  fall, 
and  he  reeled  forward,  his  sister  following  him  at  a 
respectful  distance.  A  few  minutes  later,  the  door 
closed  after  them.  Victor  went  to  his  room  wondering 
how  young  men  could  so  debase  themselves  with  drink 
and,  above  all,  how  they  could  act  with  such  inhumanity 
towards  their  sisters,  whose  interest  in  them  sprang  not 
from  self-interest  but  from  love. 

The  next  day  after  this  affair,  Julien  was  present  at 
dinner,  but  did  not  seem  like  his  former  self.  Miss  En' 
right's  bright  sallies  were  unheeded  by  him,  so  she  gave 
up  such  an  unprofitable  game  and  turned  her  attention 
to  Victor,  but  he  made  only  lame  replies.  Julien's  con- 
dition had  a  depressing  effect,  and  all  were  glad  when 
the  meal  was  over. 

Victor  again  lighted  his  cigar  and  found  his  way  to 
the  garden.  There  was  no  moon ;  instead,  the  sky  was 
overcast  and  there  were  evidences  of  an  approaching 
storm.    Unconsciously,  he  entered  the  wooded  path  and 


182  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

walked  slowly  down  towards  the  brook  where  he  had 
first  seen  Vivienne.  Would  that  beautiful  picture  ever 
fade  from  his  memory  ?  He  thought  not.  Every  day 
that  he  remained  in  the  same  house  with  her,  it  came 
before  him  and,  each  day,  it  seemed  painted  in  stronger 
colors. 

He  retraced  his  steps  and,  when  near  the  entrance 
of  tlie  path,  saw  the  gleam  of  a  lantern,  its  rays  disclos- 
ing the  fav^e  of  Julien  Batistelli,  who  opened  the  gate, 
crossed  the  road,  and  then  took  a  direction  which  led  to 
the  thickly  wooded  maquis  beyond.  Victor  was  on  the 
point  of  leaving  his  place  of  retreat,  when  another 
figure  came  in  sight.  It  was  that  of  a  woman  and,  al- 
though he  could  not  see  her  features  distinctly,  he  knew 
at  once  that  it  was  Vivienne.  She,  too,  opened  the  gate, 
crossed  the  road,  and  proceeded  in  the  same  direction 
as  had  her  brother. 

What  could  be  her  errand?  There  was  but  one  ex- 
planation— she  was  following  her  brother  with  the  in- 
tention of  trying  to  induce  him  to  return  home.  Ke- 
membering  the  occurrence  of  the  previous  evening,  Vic- 
tor was  filled  with  fears  for  her  safety.  What  if  her 
brother  should  give  her  a  violent  blow,  leave  her  sense- 
less in  the  woods,  and  a  heavy  storm  should  come  up  ? 

Victor  made  his  way  quickly  to  his  room,  caught  up 
his  gun,  examined  it  to  see  if  it  was  loaded  and  primed, 
threw  a  long  weather-proof  cloak  over  his  shoulders, 
concealing  the  gun  beneath  it,  and  was  soon  treading 
the  same  path  over  which  Julien  and  his  sister  had 
passed. 

Although  Madame  Valliet's  cabaret  could  be  reached 
by  following  the  road,  it  was  much  nearer  if  the  in- 
tending visitor  made  a  short  cut  through  the  marquis. 
Even  then,  it  was  a  rough,  hard  walk  of  at  least  two 
miles.  Julien  had  covered  about  one-half  of  the  dis- 
tance when  he  came  to  an  open  space  upon  one  side  of 
vrhich  there  were  some  rocky  cliffs.    The  place  had  been 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LIFE.  183 

named  the  "  half-way  house "  by  the  revellers,  who 
often  stopped  to  rest  on  their  way  homeward  at  night 

Julien  put  down  his  lantern  and,  taking  a  bottle  from 
his  pocket,  indulged  in  a  long  drink.  He  was  not  satis- 
fied with  the  quality  of  wine  which  he  drank  at  the 
cabaret,  but  brought  a  bottle  of  eau  de  vie  home  with 
him  so  that  he  could  satisfy  his  appetite  during  the  day. 
Then  he  sat  do\vn  upon  a  projecting  rock  to  rest  for  a 
while  before  proceeding  on  his  way. 

Suddenly,  he  felt  a  light  touch  upon  his  shoulder, 
and  he  looked  up  into  the  face  of  his  sister.  Starting 
to  his  feet,  he  exclaimed  angrily: 

"  What !  You  follow  me  ?  You  set  yourself  to  spy 
out  my  actions  ?    You  dog  my  footsteps  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Julien !  "  cried  Vivienne ;  "  do  not  be  angry 
with  me.  I  knew  that  you  were  going  to  Madame  Val- 
liet's,  and  so  I  followed  you.  You  were  not  yourself  at 
dinner,  and  every  one  noticed  it.  Oh,  Julien,  do  not 
shame  me  in  the  presence  of  our  guests.  Come  home 
with  me  and  promise  to  keep  away  from  the  cabaret  un- 
til they  have  gone." 

"  Go  home,  Vivienne !  It's  none  of  your  business 
where  I  go." 

"  I  will  not  leave  you  in  this  lonely  place.  You  must 
come  home  with  me,  Julien.  There  is  going  to  be  a 
storm  and  you  will  not  be  able  to  find  your  way 
home." 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  "  cried  Julien.  "  I  have  my  lan- 
tern, and  some  of  the  boys  will  come  home  with  me. 
They  always  do." 

"  But  remember  our  guests.  When  they  have  gone, 
although  I  shall  have  no  peace  of  mind  when  you  are 
away  from  home  on  such  errands,  I  will  say  no  more. 
Come  home,  Julien !  " 

"  I  say  I  will  not !  "  Then,  a  little  of  the  man 
showed  itself  in  him. 

"  But  you  are  a  good  girl,  Vivienne,  to  brave  the 


184  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

darkness  and  the  danger  to  follow  a  miserable  fellow 
like  me.    I  sat  down  here  to  think." 

"  To  think  of  what  ?     Oh,  tell  me,"  cried  Vivienne. 

"  Of  my  disgrace,  for  one  thing.  I  am  in  debt,  as 
usual,  and  this  very  day  Pascal  called  me  a  profligate, 
gambler,  and  druiJcard,  and  refused  to  give  me  any 
more  money.     Danm  him !  " 

"  Oh,  Julien !  You  know  that  Pascal  has  paid  your 
debts  again  and  again  until  he  is  discouraged.  You 
make  promises  and  break  them.  Is  it  strange  that  he 
has  become  incensed  and  has  lost  confidence  in  you? 
You  persist  in  going  to  that  woman's  house,  a  vile  place, 
a  resort  for  gamblers." 

"  Stop  that  nonsense !  I  will  go  where  I  like.  Who 
made  you  and  my  brother  rulers  over  me  ?  He  is  a  hard, 
cold,  cruel,  selfish  beast,  and  you  know  it!  I  don't 
blame  you,  sister.  You  have  always  been  kind  to  me, 
but  you  think  I  can  live  upon  my  income.  Bah!  I 
want  money!  I  must  have  it!  I  will  have  it!  The 
only  way  I  can  get  it  is  by  gambling,  for  I  am  always 
lucky.   You  are  a  fool — clear  out,  I  want  to  be  alone." 

"  But  your  luck  will  turn  some  day,"  said  his  sister. 

"  I  hope  it  won't  to-night.  I'll  drink  to  my  own 
success," 

"  !N^o,  no !  Oh,  Julien !  you  are  not  yourself.  Give 
me  that  bottle,  I  beg  of  you." 

As  she  said  this,  she  tried  to  take  the  bottle  from 
him.  He  kept  her  back  with  one  hand,  while,  with 
the  other,  he  put  the  bottle  to  his  mouth.  Vivienne 
sprang  forward,  snatched  the  bottle  from  his  grasp,  and 
threw  it  against  the  cliff. 

"  Pascal  was  right !  "  she  cried,  vehemently.  "  You 
are  a  profligate  and  a  drunkard.  You  are  here  alone  in 
this  dangerous  wood,  and  you  brutalise  yourself  to  the 
point  of  imbecility,  rendering  yourself  wholly  incapable 
of  defending  your  sister  and  yourself  in  case  we  are 
attacked  by  bandits." 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LIFE.  186 

Julien  stood  as  if  stupefied.  His  condition  was  due 
largely  to  the  quantity  of  brandy  which  he  had  drunk, 
for  there  was  but  little  in  the  bottle  when  his  sister 
took  it  from  him ;  but,  despite  his  besotted  condition,  he 
was  really  astounded  at  his  sister's  words,  for  she  had 
never  spoken  in  that  way  to  him  before.  As  Julien  did 
not  reply,  Vivienne  thought  she  had  influenced  him  at 
last,  and  she  followed  up  her  presumed  advantage : 

"  Oh,  Julien,  my  best  beloved  brother,  come,  come 
home  with  me !  "  As  she  said  this,  she  took  his  arm. 
"  I  cannot  leave  you  here  alone.  Hear  the  thunder ! 
See,  it  lightens !  I  will  sell  some  of  my  jewels,  as  I 
have  many  times  before.  You  shall  have  money.  Oh, 
come !    The  rain  will  soon  be  upon  us." 

Julien  did  not  answer  this  impassioned  appeal,  but 
withdrew  his  arm  from  her  loving  clasp,  took  up  his 
lantern,  and  started  off  in  the  direction  which  led  to 
the  cabaret.  Vivienne  lost  command  of  herself.  Xever 
before  had  he  so  stubbornly  resisted  her  loving  en- 
treaties.    She  would  sting  him  into  speech! 

"  Stop,  Julien !  "  she  cried.  "  I  have  one  word  more 
to  say  to  you." 

He  looked  back. 

"  Julien  Batistelli,"  cried  Vivienne,  "  hear  the  last 
word  that  I  have  to  say  to  you.  Rimhecco!  Rim- 
hecco!" 

Julien  put  down  his  lantern  and  rushed  angrily  to- 
wards her. 

"  I  hurl  the  base  lie  back  in  your  teeth !  "  he  cried. 
"  Dear  God,  that  I  should  live  to  see  this  hour !  The 
red  stain  of  Rimhecco  stamped  upon  the  brow  of  a 
brave  son  of  a  noble  father.  You  dare  not  repeat  that 
word!" 

Vivienne  looked  at  him  with  flashing  eyes :  "  I  am  a 
daughter  of  the  noble  father  whose  name  you  have  dis- 
honoured. Rimhecco!  Do  you  hear?  I  have  repeated 
it!     Every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  Corsica  repeats 


186  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

it,  and  you,  a  strong  man,  the  son  of  your  father,  are 
wasting  your  precious  time  in  drinking  and  gambling — ■ 
time  that  should  be  spent  in  seeking  out  the  man  in 
whose  veins  runs  the  vile  blood  of  the  ruthless  Delia 
Coscia.    Rimbecco!" 

Hardly  had  that  word  of  deepest  reproach  which  can 
be  uttered  to  a  Corsican  fallen  from  her  lips,  when  her 
brother,  exerting  all  his  brute  force,  felled  her  to  the 
ground. 

"  You  are  no  longer  a  sister  of  mine ! "  he  cried. 
"  You  have  insulted  me  past  forgiveness." 

He  turned  and  dashed  into  the  dark  woods  beyond, 
forgetful  of  the  lantern,  the  rays  of  which  shone  upon 
the  pallid  face  of  the  prostrate  girl.  Vivienne  was  in 
an  unconscious  state.  The  blow  had  been  a  cruel  one, 
before  which  even  a  strong  man  would  have  gone  down. 

An  old  hag,  bearing  a.  bundle  of  fagots  upon  her 
back,  was  plodding  slowly  homeward.  She  stopped  when 
she  caught  sight  of  the  lantern  and,  looking  about  her, 
saw  the  inanimate  form  of  a  woman  upon  the  ground, 
not  far  distant. 

"  A  lantern !  "  the  old  woman  muttered.  "  She  must 
have  brought  it,  but  I  did  not  see  it  when  she  passed 
my  house.  I  did  not  see  it  when  she  went  by  in  the 
woods,  but  I  can  see  now  the  flash  of  diamonds  upon 
her  fingers,  on  her  neck,  and  in  her  ears.  A  quarrel 
with  her  lover,  most  likely !  More  fool  she  to  care  for 
one  who  could  leave  her  like  this!  Lucky  for  me, 
though !  " 

She  knelt  beside  Vivienne,  and  the  jewels  were  soon 
in  her  possession. 

"  These  are  nice  French  boots,  just  the  right  size  for 
my  little  girl,  and  this  beautiful  dress  will  bring  me 
a  fine  sum.  Why  should  she  possess  all  that  riches 
can  bestow  and  I  go  about  clothed  in  rags?  It  is  my 
right  to  take  all  that  I  can  get.    I,  a  bandit's  mistress — 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LIFE.  187 

she,  some  rich  man's  daughter;  but  her  head  must  lie 
as  low  as  mine  some  day.     That  is  one  comfort" 

She  proceeded  deliberately  to  make  as  small  a  bundle 
as  possible  of  the  clothing  and  other  articles  of  which 
she  had  despoiled  the  unconscious  girl,  and,  having  done 
so,  put  it  under  her  arm  and  disappeared  among  the 
trees. 

Hardly  had  she  done  so,  when  Victor,  walking  rap- 
idly, carrying  his  gun  upon  his  shoulder,  reached  the 
place.  He  espied  the  lantern  and,  running  forward, 
caught  it  up. 

"  Where  can  they  be  ?  "  he  cried.  "  What  has  hap- 
pened to  them  ? " 

He  held  the  lantern  up  and  peered  about  him.  It 
almost  fell  from  his  grasp  at  the  sight  which  met  his 
gaze.  In  an  instant,  he  was  kneeling  beside  Vivienne, 
holding  the  lantern  so  that  the  light  would  shine  full 
in  her  face.  Her  eyes  were  closed ;  her  form  motionless. 
He  took  one  of  her  hands,  which  felt  cold  and  dropped 
lifeless  from  his  grasp. 

"  My  God,  can  she  be  dead  ?  "  He  started  to  his  feet 
and  looked  about  him.  "  Who  has  done  this  ?  "  he 
cried. 

His  voice  must  have  been  heard  by  Vivienne,  for 
she  showed  signs  of  returning  consciousness.  Victor 
again  knelt  beside  her.  She  opened  her  eyes  and 
looked  up  at  him.  He  put  his  arm  about  her  and 
raised  her  to  a  sitting  posture. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  he  asked.  "  How  came  you 
to  be  in  this  plight?" 

Vivienne  for  the  first  time  recognised  her  condition. 
She  would  say  nothing  against  her  brother,  so  she  an- 
swered : 

"  I  must  have  been  attacked  and  robbed  of  my  cloth- 
ing." Then  the  contemplation  of  her  situation  over- 
came her,  temporarily,  and,  abashed  and  ashamed,  she 
burst  into  tears,  crying  piteously: 


188  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?    How  shall  I  get  home  ?  " 

Victor  removed  the  long  cloak  which  he  wore  and 
passed  it  to  her.  Then,  turning  his  face  away,  he 
said: 

"  Throw  that  about  you — it  will  protect  you.  Fear 
nothing,  for  a  true  friend  awaits  your  commands." 

Vivienne  did  as  he  suggested,  ■wrapping  about  her 
the  great  cloak,  which  reached  nearly  to  her  feet. 

"  Monsieur !  " 

Victor  turned  quickly.  Vivienne  stood  before  him. 
Stepping  back,  he  regarded  her. 

"  Why !  "  he  cried,  "  the  scoundrels  have  taken  your 
boots,  too."  Removing  his  under  coat,  he  threw  it  upon 
the  ground  before  her,  saying  as  he  did  so: 

"  Mademoiselle,  stand  upon  that.  The  ground  is 
damp  and  you  will  get  a  fever." 

"  Monsieur,"  Vivienne  repeated,  "  some  good  angel 
has  guided  your  footsteps  to  this  place.  Merciful  God, 
I  thank  Thee.  N^ever  have  I  felt  the  need  of  human 
sympathy  as  I  do  to-night.  But  for  you,  I  must  have 
died  in  this  dreary  place,  alone  and  uncared  for." 

The  excitement  attending  her  interview  with  her 
brother,  the  blow  which  she  had  received,  and  the  dis- 
covery of  the  loss  of  her  jewels  and  clothing,  together 
formed  the  severest  trial  to  which  this  delicate  and  ten- 
derly nurtured  girl  had  ever  been  subjected.  As  she 
stood  there,  it  all  came  back  to  her,  and  the  dreadful 
scene  was  acted  over  again  in  her  mind.  The  nervous 
tension  was  too  great,  and  she  fell  in  a  dead  swoon  at 
the  feet  of  her  rescuer. 

"  She  has  fainted  and  I  am  powerless  to  help  her. 
She  may  die  here  before  I  can  get  assistance."  He 
raised  her  in  his  arms  and  looked  tenderly  at  the  cold, 
pallid  face: 

"  Beloved  of  my  soul,  I  may  speak  now  that  my  voice 
cannot  reach  thee.  I  may  gaze  into  thy  beauteous  face 
and  press  thy  form  close  to  my  throbbing  heart.     Oh, 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LIFE.  189 

Vivienne !  Can  hate  dwell  in  a  soul  encased  In  a  form 
like  thine — a  form  upon  which  heaven  has  stamped  its 
signet  seals  of  beauty  and  love?  No,  no!  It  is  im- 
possible— and  yet,  I  know  that  if  my  true  name  were 
but  breathed  into  thy  ears,  those  lovely  eyes  which,  but 
a  moment  ago,  were  gazing  into  mine  with  such  holy 
trust,  such  infinite  tenderness,  would  be  filled  with  hor- 
ror and  dismay.  I  am  forever  proscribed  from  creating 
any  sentiment  in  thy  heart  save  that  of  intensest  hatred 
and  loathing.  Cruel  fate — ruthless  destiny !  Why  am 
I  to  suffer  thus — to  see  her — to  adore  her — only  to  lose 
her? 

"  Vivienne,  dearest  object  of  my  heart,  would  that 
I  could  pass  thus,  with  my  arms  about  thee,  into  that 
better  world,  where  strife  and  hate,  vendettas  and  re- 
venge, murder  and  death,  are  things  unknown.  There, 
in  the  blessed  company  of  the  angels,  I  might  teach  thy 
pure  soul  to  love  mine  and,  with  thee,  enjoy  an  eternity 
of  blissful  rest." 

Vivienne's  lips  parted  and  a  faint  touch  of  colour 
came  to  her  cheeks.  Victor  removed  his  cap  and  fanned 
her,  vigorously.  The  cool,  fresh  air  soon  revived  her. 
As  soon  as  she  realised  her  position,  she  endeavoured  to 
free  herself  from  his  arms  and  rise  to  her  feet,  but  she 
was  too  weak  and  would  have  fallen  again  if  he  had 
not  prevented  it.  Again,  she  tried  to  free  herself  from 
him. 

"  I  am  weak  and  helpless,"  she  cried.  "  How  dare 
you!" 

Again  she  strove  to  sustain  herself  without  his  sup- 
port, but  it  was  a  futile  effort. 

"  The  Holy  Mother  of  God,"  cried  Victor,  "  will  bear 
testimony  to  my  sincerity  when  I  swear  to  you  that  you 
have  been  as  safe  in  my  arms  as  in  those  of  a  mother. 
Sacred  to  me  is,  and  ever  has  been,  the  protection  of 
female  purity  and  innocence.  With  a  brother's  care  you 
must  allow  me  to  guard  your  precious  life  until  I  can 


190  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

restore  you,  unharmed,  into  the  keeping  of  those  whose 
blessed  right  it  is  to  love  and  protect  you." 

"  I  was  bewildered — I  knew  not  what  I  said.  For- 
give me,"  she  pleaded. 

"  An  angel  like  yourself,  mademoiselle,  needs  not  to 
be  forgiven  by  a  sinful  mortal  like  me.  Only  tell  me 
how  I  can  best  serve  you." 

The  storm  which  had  long  been  in  gathering,  now 
burst  upon  them.  The  rocky  cliffs  protected  them  in 
some  degree  from  the  violence  of  the  wind,  but  from 
the  rain  there  was  no  escape. 

"  It  is  your  right,"  said  Vivienne,  "  to  know  by  what 
strange  chance  I  was  brought  to  this  pass." 

"  Do  not  try  to  tell  me  now,"  cried  Victor.  "  I 
desire  to  hear  nothing — I  will  hear  nothing  until  I 
see  you  in  a  place  of  safety.  Your  feet  are  exposed 
to  the  wet  ground,  and  even  that  thick  cloak  will  soon 
be  drenched  with  rain.  Shall  you  be  afraid  to  re- 
main here  alone  until  I  can  go  back  to  the  house  for  dry 
clothing  ?  " 

"  I  shall  not  be  afraid  to  remain  alone,"  said  Vivi- 
enne, "  but  if  others  should  come,  I  might  be  afraid  of 
them."  As  she  said  this,  she  smiled  faintly.  "  But  you 
do  not  think  of  yourself.  The  coat  which  you  gave  me 
to  stand  upon  must  be  wet  through  by  this  time." 

"  Oh,  that  is  nothing,"  said  Victor,  as  he  picked  up 
the  garment  and  put  it  on.  "  It  can  hold  only  so  much 
water,  and  it  will  be  in  no  worse  condition  by  the  time 
I  reach  your  home." 

"  You  are  more  than  kind  to  me,  monsieur.  You 
are  merciless  to  yourself — ^you  expose  your  life  to  save 
mine — ^you  cover  me  with  your  garments  while  you  are 
suffering.  You,  who  are  not  used  to  this  climate,  can 
hardly  expect  to  escape  the  effects  of  exposure  to  the 
damp  and  chill  of  such  a  storm.  Ah!  Never  while 
memory  lasts  will  the  events  of  this  night  and  your 
kindness  be  forgotten.     Receive  my  soul's  deep  grati- 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LIFE.  191 

tude.  If  ever  I  become  so  ungrateful  as  to  forget  your 
merciful  deeds  this  night,  may  Heaven  punish  me !  " 

She  grasped  both  his  hands,  and  would  have  fallen 
upon  her  knees  before  him  if  he  had  not  prevented  her. 

"  That  vow  is  recorded  in  Heaven,  and  approved  of 
saints.  It  was  prompted,  not  by  the  poor  service  which 
I  have  been  so  happy  in  rendering,  but  by  the  transcend- 
ent impulse  of  a  true,  womanly  heart.  Say  it  once 
more — ^you  will  never  forget  me." 

"  I  will  never  forget  thee !  " 

"  ^ow  I  may  pour  out  my  soul  to  thee,  angel  of 
goodness !  "  cried  Victor.  "  I  may  tell  thee  how  dearly 
T — but,  no — we  have  not  yet  passed  Heaven's  portals — 
but  it  seemed  for  a  moment  that  earth  was  receding  and 
Paradise  opening  to  my  view.  Pardon  me,  mademoi- 
selle, but  I  begin  to  think  that  my  brain  has  been  af- 
fected by  the  events  of  the  hour.  We  have  no  time  to 
lose.  The  longer  we  remain  here,  the  more  uncomfort- 
able will  our  situation  become."  He  looked  up  at  the 
rocky  cliffs.  "  Ah !  I  see  a  wide  cleft  in  the  rocks.  Per- 
haps it  is  large  enough  to  shield  you  until  my  return. 
I  will  go  and  explore  it." 

"  I  will  go  with  you,"  cried  Vivienne. 

He  grasped  his  gun  and  led  the  way,  she  following. 
When  Victor  emerged  from  the  cave,  he  said : 

"  How  true  it  is  that  we  often  find  bright  spots  when 
the  way  seems  darkest." 

"  And  you  find  one  there  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Victor,  joyously.  "  This  little  cave  is 
carpeted  with  the  softest  of  green  moss.  How  obliging 
Mother  Nature  is  to  her  offspring.  Now,  give  me  your 
hand  and  I  will  place  you  in  your  eyrie." 

When  she  was  seated  in  the  cave,  Victor  stood  at  the 
entrance,  bowed  low,  and  said: 

"  I  present  my  homage  to  the  Queen  of  the  Moun- 
tains. I  am  going  to  leave  my  gim  with  you.  If  you 
should  be  in  danger,  can  you  use  it  ? " 


192  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  All  Corsican  women  understand  the  use  of  firearms. 
You  are  a  sailor  and,  perhaps,  a  better  marksman  than 
I,  but  I  doubt  it.  I  always  win  the  prize  in  shooting 
with  mj  brothers." 

"  May  Heaven  preserve  you  until  we  meet  again," 
were  Victor's  last  words,  and,  a  moment  later,  he 
was  running  at  full  speed  towards  Batistelli 
Castle. 

As  he  plunged  through  the  forest,  occasionally  catch- 
ing his  feet  in  the  underbrush  and  nearly  falling  head- 
long, he  congratulated  himself  upon  having  repressed 
an  avowal  of  his  love  for  Vivienne  until  a  more  oppor- 
tune moment  arrived.  He  would  not  have  ventured  to 
breathe  his  love  for  her,  as  she  lay  senseless  in  his  arms, 
had  it  not  been  for  an  incident  which  had  occurred  the 
day  previous.  In  company  with  Vivienne,  he  had 
walked  down  the  wooded  path  until  they  came  to  the 
brook  beside  which  she  had  knelt  when  she  gave  him 
the  flower.  As  they  stood  there,  the  scene  brought  back 
to  him  the  remembrance  of  his  meeting  with  Count 
Mont  d'Oro  and  he,  unthinkingly,  asked : 

"  Have  you  heard  from  Count  Mont  d'Oro,  to-day, 
Mademoiselle  Batistelli  ?  " 

"  !N"o.  Why  should  I  ?  "  and  she  fixed  her  piercing 
black  eyes  upon  him. 

"  Oh — I "  he  began — "  I  heard  something  soon  af- 
ter my  arrival  which  made  me  think  that  you  would  be 
greatly  interested  in  his  condition." 

"  What  did  you  hear?     Please  tell  me." 

Victor  hesitated.  Finally,  he  said :  "  Mademoiselle 
Batistelli,  I  am  a  British  sailor.  Perhaps  you  have 
heard  that  British  sailors,  as  a  class,  are  noted  for  their 
frankness  and  honesty.  I  will  try  to  be  worthy  of  their 
well-earned  reputation." 

He  then  told  her  what  had  happened  after  she  gave 
him  the  white  rose,  and  how  Count  Mont  d'Oro  had  de- 
clared that  she  was  to  be  the  future  Countess  Mont 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LIFE.  193 

d'Oro,  being  already  betrothed  to  him — ^but  he  did  not 
refer  to  the  duel. 

"  That  betrothal,"  cried  Vivienne,  "  was  the  foolish 
fancy  of  an  old  man  who  loved  my  father  and  who 
thought  his  son  should  love  the  daughter  of  the  man 
whom  he  loved.  On  the  other  hand,  my  ambitious 
brother,  Pascal,  desires  to  join  the  two  great  landed  es- 
tates and,  at  the  same  time,  have  his  sister  become  a 
countess.  But  none  of  the  four  ever  consulted  my  wish 
or  will  in  the  matter  and,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I 
do  not  regard  anything  that  has  been  said  or  done  as  at 
all  binding  upon  me." 

A  strange  thrill  of  delight  had  gone  through  Victor's 
nerves  when  he  had  heard  this  declaration,  and  he  ex- 
perienced it  again  as  he  threaded  his  way  along  the 
forest  path.  What  he  was  doing  was  for  Vivienne's 
sake — and  she  was  free!  If  he  could  win  her,  there 
was  no  reason  why  she  should  not  be  his. 

Pascal  Batistelli  was  not  at  home  when  Victor  ar- 
rived, and  he  was  glad  that  he  was  not  obliged  to  ex- 
plain matters  to  Vivienne's  brother.  He  found  Sno- 
dine,  the  housekeeper,  who  speedily  collected  the  ar- 
ticles of  clothing  that  were  needed,  and  he  was  soon  on 
his  way  back  to  the  cave  in  the  cliff. 

"  I  should  not  envy  Count  Mont  d'Oro  his  feelings 
if  he  ever  learns  what  has  taken  place  on  this  eventful 
night,"  was  Victor's  mental  reflection  as  he  retraced  his 
steps. 

The  Count  was  not  to  be  envied.  The  doctor  had 
told  him  that  he  would  be  confined  to  the  house  for 
at  least  three  weeks,  and  it  would  be  three  more  be- 
fore he  would  be  able  to  walk  with  his  accustomed 
ease.  One  day,  when  Pascal  Batistelli  was  speaking 
about  his  English  guests,  the  Count  asked,  carelessly, 
as  if  their  presence  were  of  no  particular  interest  to 


194  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  Who  are  they,  Batistelli  ?  " 

"  Admiral  Enright,  of  the  British  navy,  his  daughter 
Helen,  who  is  a  very  finely  educated  woman — and  there 
her  attractions  end — and  a  young  lieutenant  named  Vic- 
tor Duquesne,  who  may  or  may  not  be  in  love  with  the 
highly  educated  daughter." 

The  Count  said  nothing,  but  there  was  an  expression 
upon  his  face  which  Pascal  wrongly  attributed  to  a  sud- 
den twinge  of  pain.  It  was  a  spasm  of  jealousy.  So, 
his  rival  was  a  guest  of  the  Batistellis  and  able  to  see 
Vivienne  every  day,  while  he  was  flat  upon  his  back 
and  could  not  interfere.  He  could  do  nothing  himself 
— but  something  must  be  done.  He  sent  for  his  friend 
Villefort,  and  gave  him  a  large  roll  of  gold  coin  and 
told  him  what  to  do. 

In  Villefort  he  had  a  willing  slave,  for  the  latter 
derived  his  living  principally  from  Count  Napier's 
bounty,  but  got  nothing  for  which  he  had  not  rendered 
some  service. 

Shortly  after  Victor's  departure  the  storm  abated. 
Vivienne  was  very  thankful  for  this,  for  she  was  really 
solicitous  regarding  his  exposure  to  the  elements.  She 
knew  that  he  was  drenched  to  the  skin  and  feared  that 
this  fact  and  the  long  walk  to  and  from  her  home  might 
throw  him  into  a  fever,  for  the  river  valleys  in  Corsica 
were,  in  those  days,  full  of  malarial  poison.  She  was 
tliinking  of  Victor,  hoping  that  he  would  return  soon, 
when  she  heard  voices.  She  drew  back  as  far  as  possible 
into  the  cave,  but  listened  intently  in  order  to  hear 
every  word  that  might  be  said. 

Two  men  who,  in  appearance,  resembled  those  be- 
longing to  Cromillian's  band,  but  who,  in  reality,  were 
not  connected  with  it,  approached  from  the  same  direc- 
tion in  which  Victor  had  gone.  As  they  came  within 
hearing,  Vivienne  heard  one  of  them  say: 

"  Who  in  the  devil  left  that  lantern  here?  " 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LIFE.  196 

"Are  you  sure  you  saw  the  fellow?"  the  other 
asked. 

"  Yes,  I  am  quite  sure.  He  had  a  gun  over  his  shoul- 
der, but  I  saw  no  lantern.  He  wore  a  big  cloak,  how- 
ever, and  that  may  have  concealed  it  from  view." 

"  They  are  speaking  of  the  Lieutenant,"  thought 
Vivienne,  and  she  clasped  her  hands  in  mute  terror. 

"  Shall  we  leave  the  lantern  where  it  is?  "  asked  the 
second  man. 

"  Of  course,"  was  the  reply ;  "  if  we  move  it,  he  will 
suspect  that  something  is  %vrong." 

"Don't  you  think  we  had  better  hide  behind  those 
trees  ?  " 

"  Xo,"  said  the  first  speaker ;  "  we  have  come  here 
to  meet  him,  and  he  might  as  well  meet  us.  He  is  some- 
where about  here.  The  lantern  being  here  proves  that, 
and  we  shall  be  sure  of  our  chance  sooner  or  later." 

"  What  are  we  expected  to  do  with  this  fellow,  any- 
way ?  "  asked  the  second  speaker. 

"  Why,  when  we  get  him,"  said  the  other,  "  to  carry 
out  our  agreement,  we  must  get  into  a  quarrel  with  him 
and  dispose  of  him — that's  all." 

The  shaft  went  home  to  Vivienne's  heart.  "  They 
have  come  here  to  murder  my  friend  in  need,"  she  said 
to  herself.  She  sank  upon  her  knees  and  raised  her 
clasped  hands.  "  Great  God  in  Heaven,  save  him !  " 
was  her  unspoken  prayer.  Could  she  do  anything  to 
avert  the  danger  which  threatened  him?  It  was  her 
duty,  surely,  to  watch  and  listen. 

"  ^Vhat's  all  the  trouble  about  ? "  asked  the  second 
man. 

"  What  usually  causes  trouble — a  love  affair." 

"  And  the  woman  ?  " 

"  That  Batistelli  girl — Vivienne,  I  believe  her  name 
is.  This  young  Englishman  met  her  one  day  and  she, 
fool-like,  gave  him  a  flower.  The  Count  saw  her  do  it, 
and  asked  the  fellow  to  give  it  up.    He  refused  and  they 


196  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

had  it  out  with  their  fists,  the  Count  getting  the  worst 
of  it." 

"  Why  didn't  he  use  his  stiletto  ?  " 

"  He  tried  to,  but  the  Englishman  took  it  from,  him 
with  one  hand  and  knocked  him  down  with  the  otlier." 

"  How  do  you  happen  to  know  so  much  ?  " 

"  Villefort  told  me  all  about  it.  The  Count  sent  him 
with  a  challenge  to  the  Englishman,  who  accepted  it, 
and  they  fought  it  out  with  axes  in  the  dark.  The  duel 
took  place  in  an  old  shed,  at  midnight.  Queer  dogs, 
those  Englishmen !  " 

"  How  did  it  end  ?  " 

"  N'either  one  got  cut.  The  Count  fell  through  a 
hole  in  the  floor  and  sprained  his  ankle.  The  Count's 
coachman  got  drunk  and  let  out  the  whole  story  at  the 
cabaret." 

"  Why  doesn't  the  Count  drop  it,  if  he  has  had  sat- 
ifif  action  ? " 

"  But  he  isn't  satisfied.  He  told  Villefort  that  he  ac- 
cepted the  Englishman's  terms  to  please  him ;  now,  he 
is  going  to  do  something  to  please  himself.  The  Goimt, 
naturally,  would  have  waited  until  he  was  able  to  get 
out  again,  but  it  so  happened  that  the  Admiral  and  his 
daughter  brought  the  yoimg  Englishman  along  with 
them  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Batistellis." 

"  That  was  too  much  for  the  Count,"  cried  the  second 
man,  and  he  broke  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"  Shut  up,  you  idiot !  "  said  his  companion.  "  Of 
course,  the  Count  couldn't  stand  it,  knowing  that  this 
young  fellow  was  in  the  same  house  with  the  girl  and 
nothing  to  do  but  make  love  to  her.  So  he  sent  for 
Villefort,  told  him  what  he  wanted  done  and  gave  him 
a  big  roll  of  louis  d'or.  Villefort,  who  is  a  bright  man, 
decided  that  we  were  the  fellows  to  do  the  job  up  in  true 
Corsican  fashion.  We  have  got  our  money  in  advance, 
and  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  settle  the  Englishman  as 
Boon  as  we  meet  him." 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LIFE.  197 

Vivienne  felt  as  though  every  drop  of  blood  in  her 
veins  was  turned  to  ice,  while  her  head  seemed  ready  to 
burst  with  the  intense  heat.  She  saw  it  all  now — Count 
Mont  d'Oro  had  hired  these  two  bandits  to  pick  a  quar- 
rel with  Lieutenant  Duquesne  and  kill  him.  How 
could  she  warn  him?  He  had  saved  her  life,  for  she 
surely  would  have  died  if  she  had  remained  all  night 
exposed  to  the  storm.  The  account  should  be  balanced. 
It  must  stand,  a  life  for  a  life.     But  how  ? 

Vivienne  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  her  retreat  and 
flying  to  warn  Victor,  but  it  was  too  late,  for,  as  she 
stepped  out  upon  the  ledge,  she  heard  his  voice  calling: 

"  Mademoiselle,  are  you  there  ?  " 

"  He  has  come !  "  cried  one  of  the  men.  "  I  think 
your  idea  of  getting  out  of  sight  for  a  while  is  a  good 
one." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  they  hid  themselves 
behind  two  of  the  largest  trees. 

Victor,  with  a  bundle  of  clothing  under  his  arm, 
made  his  way  at  once  to  the  lantern,  it  being  his  idea 
to  take  it  to  the  cave  so  that  Vivienne  could  see  what 
articles  of  clothing  he  had  brought  for  her  use,  and  it 
would  also  light  them  on  their  way  home. 

Vivienne  called :  "  Victor !  Victor !  "  softly,  for 
she  was  afraid  if  the  bandits  knew  they  were  dis- 
covered that  she,  too,  would  be  killed,  in  which  case 
Count  Mont  d'Oro  and  his  hired  assassins  would  escape 
the  hand  of  justice.  She  would  have  given  her  own 
life  to  save  Victor's,  but,  if  that  sacrifice  was  impossi- 
ble, she  determined  to  avenge  his  death. 

As  Victor  stooped  to  pick  up  the  lantern,  a  gruff 
voice  said : 

"  Put  that  down!  What  are  you  going  to  do  with 
my  lantern  ? " 

Victor  looked  up  and  saw  two  rough-looking  fellows 
standing  before  him. 

"  I  think  you  have  made  a  mistake,"  he  said.     "  I 


198  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

happen  to  know  that  this  lantern  is  the  property  of 
Monsieur  Julien  Batistelli.  That  is  not  your  name,  I 
ana  sure." 

"  Say,  Jean,"  said  one  of  the  men  to  his  companion, 
"  you  heard  him  say  this  isn't  my  lantern  ?  " 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  growled  the  other.  "  I  have  seen 
you  with  it  a  dozen  times.    Make  him  give  it  up." 

"  It  will  take  more  than  two  such  fellows  as  you 
are  to  make  me  give  it  up,"  said  Victor,  defiantly. 

The  men  drew  their  stilettos,  the  bright  blades  of  the 
weapons  flashing  in  the  lantern-light. 

Victor  stepped  back,  suddenly  realising  that  he  was 
unarmed.  He  dropped  the  bundle  of  clothing  and  held 
up  the  lantern,  which  was  his  only  means  of  defence, 
so  that  the  light  fell  full  upon  the  faces  of  his  assail- 
ants, enabling  him  to  see  every  motion  made  by  them. 

To  Vivienne,  the  situation  seemed  tragical.  She 
could  stand  the  suspense  no  longer.  Summoning  all 
her  strength,  she  raised  to  her  shoulder  the  gun  which 
Victor  had  given  her,  aimed  it  at  the  men,  and  dis- 
charged both  barrels  simultaneously.  By  a  fortunate 
chance,  her  aim  had  been  good.  Standing  so  far  above 
those  at  whom  she  fired,  the  effect  of  the  shots  was  pe- 
culiar. One  man  received  a  bullet  in  his  cheek  which 
removed  half  a  dozen  of  his  teeth  and  a  portion  of  his 
jawbone,  passing  out  through  his  other  cheek.  The  sec- 
ond man  was  less  fortunate,  for  the  bullet  entered  his 
throat,  cutting  a  large  artery  and  causing  him  to  bleed 
profusely. 

Victor  realised  that  it  was  no  time  to  attempt  to 
learn  the  extent  of  his  enemies'  injuries.  He  rushed  to 
the  foot  of  the  cliflF,  crying: 

"  Come,  Vivienne !  " 

She  passed  the  gun  down  to  him,  and  then  stood  ir- 
resolute. 

"  Jump !  "  he  cried. 

She  instantly  threw  herself  from  the  clifF,  some  ten 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LIFE.  199 

feet  above  him,  and  was  caught  in  his  powerful  arms. 
He  had  braced  himself  for  the  shock  and,  although  he 
was  forced  backwards,  he  did  not  fall,  nor  did  he  loosen 
his  hold  upon  her  until  he  had  placed  her  safely  upon 
the  ground. 

He  looked  backward  and  found  that  his  assailants 
had  taken  to  the  woods,  probably  fearing  that  the  gun 
would  be  reloaded  and  used  to  their  further  detriment. 
He  passed  the  gun  to  Vivienne,  considering  it  the 
easiest  article  for  her  to  carry,  encumbered  as  she  was 
by  the  great  cloak.  He  then  returned  to  where  he  had 
loft  the  bundle  of  clothing  and  the  lantern  and  regained 
possession  of  them. 

When  he  rejoined  Vivienne,  he  said :  "  I  dare  not 
stop  to  have  you  put  on  your  dry  clothing  here.  I  do 
not  know  how  badly  those  fellows  are  injured,  and  they 
may  follow  us.  We  will  go  a  short  distance  and  look 
for  some  place  where  we  can  secrete  ourselves.  I  will 
then  reload  the  gun  and  you  can  put  on  your  boots, 
which  you  need  more  than  anything  else.  The  storm 
has  ceased  and  perhaps  you  can  reach  home  without 
stopping  to  change  your  clothing." 

There  was  little  danger  of  their  being  overtaken.  One 
of  the  assassins  was  likely  to  die  from  loss  of  blood,  while 
the  other  was  suffering  so  acutely  on  account  of  his  bro- 
ken jaw  that  he  could  be  of  little  service  to  his  companion. 

The  travellers  reached  home  \vithout  experiencing 
any  other  thrilling  adventures.  Fortunately,  Pascal 
had  not  yet  returned.  Vivienne  made  her  way  at  once 
to  the  housekeeper's  room,  where  she  put  on  the  dry 
clothing  which  had  been  sent  to  her.  Snodine  was  full 
of  curiosity,  which  Vivienne  satisfied  by  telling  her  as 
little  as  possible.  The  next  day,  she  repeated  to  Vic- 
tor enough  of  what  his  assailants  had  said  to  prove  to 
him  that,  in  his  list  of  enemies,  he  must  include,  not 
only  the  Batistelli  brothers  and  their  adherents,  but 
also  Count  Mont  d'Oro  and  his  hired  minions. 


CHAPTEK  XVIIL 

A  MESSAGE  FEOM   THE  DEAD. 

WHff.E  Victor  and  Yivienne  were  participants  in 
the  exciting  events  which  took  place  in  the  maquis, 
Bertha  Renville  was  seated  in  the  cosey  little  room 
which  had  been  assigned  to  her,  and  in  which  she  had 
passed  many  happy  hours.  She  derived  much  pleasure 
from  the  thought  that  Jack  was  on  the  way.  She  had 
caught  Count  Mont  d'Oro  in  one  falsehood  and  did 
not  believe  his  statement  that  her  guardian,  Thomas 
Glynne,  was  in  Corsica.  Since  the  Count's  accident, 
the  real  cause  of  which  was  unknown  to  her,  for  he 
had  told  a  plausible  story  of  missing  his  footing  when 
stepping  from  his  carriage,  both  the  Countess  and 
Bertha  had  passed  an  hour  each  day  with  him;  for 
what  woman  is  there  who  does  not  have  some  compassion 
for  so  helpless  and  harmless  a  creature  as  a  man  with  a 
sprained  ankle  ? 

Vivienne  had  not  felt  inclined  to  make  a  confidante 
of  Snodine,  for  she  knew  that  she  was  a  great  gossip, 
and  that  what  she  told  her  would  be  retold  the  next 
day  with  many  fanciful  additions  to  the  other  servants. 
But  Vivienne  could  place  implicit  trust  in  her  old 
nurse,  Clarine;  so,  the  next  morning,  she  went  to  her 
room,  determined  to  confide  in  her  and  to  ask  her  what 
could  be  done,  if  anything,  to  induce  Julien  to  give  up 
his  evil  ways. 

She  was  obliged  to  postpone  her  disclosures,  how- 
ever, to  a  more  opportune  time,  for  Old  Manassa  had 
made  an  early  morning  call  on  Clarine  and,  according 
to  his  usual  custom,  had  fallen  asleep  in  the  easy-chair 

200 


A  MESSAGE  FROM  THE  DEAD.         201 

which  he  considered  his  personal  property  when  he  paid 
a  visit  to  the  old  nurse.  His  head  had  fallen  forward 
and  his  wrinkled  hands  were  clasped  tightly  over  the 
huge  head  of  the  big  oaken  staff  which  was  his  constant 
companion.  He  declared  that  he  was  a  hundred  years 
old,  and  there  was  no  one  to  gainsay  his  claim  to  that  ad- 
vanced age.  He  had,  upon  several  occasions,  when  sup- 
posed to  he  asleep,  evinced  a  comprehension  of,  and  a 
marked  interest  in,  the  conversation  which  was  going 
on  about  him.  Eor  that  reason,  Vivienne  thought  it 
best  to  put  off  giving  Clarine  an  account  of  her  adven- 
tures until  she  could  speak  to  her  alone. 

Clarine,  however,  had  something  to  say  to  Vivienne, 
being  apparently  unmindful  of  the  presence  of  Old  Ma- 
nassa,  or  willing  to  have  him  hear  what  she  said. 

"  Do  you  know,"  asked  Clarine,  "  that  in  two  weeks 
you  will  be  eighteen  years  old  ? " 

"  I  really  had  not  thought  of  it,"  Vivienne  replied. 
"  My  birthdays  have  never  been  occasions  of  particular 
enjoyment  to  me." 

"  But  this  one  will  be,"  cried  Clarine.  "  You  will 
not  be  a  young  girl  then,  but  a  woman,  and  such  events 
are  always  celebrated  in  Corsica,  and  also,  I  have  heard, 
in  other  parts  of  the  world.  Yes,"  the  old  nurse  re- 
peated, "  in  two  weeks  you  will  be  eighteen  years  old." 

"  How  old  are  you,  Clarine  ?  "  asked  Vivienne. 

"  Manassa  says  his  mother  told  him  that  he  was  four 
years  old  when  I  was  bom.  If  hie  memory  can  be  de- 
pended upon,  I  am  ninety-six.  How  well  I  remember 
the  day  your  grandfather  brought  me  to  the  castle !  I 
came  to  nurse  your  grandame.  Your  dear  sainted 
mother  was  but  two  weeks  old  when  I  first  saw  her 
sweet  face.  How  swiftly  the  time  has  sped,  and  you, 
the  little  weeny  baby  which  she  laid  in  my  arms  eigh- 
teen years  ago,  have  been  spared  to  bless  my  old  age. 
God  is  good !    Yes — ^yes." 

"  Oh,  Clarine,  you  have  acted  a  mother's  part  to 


202  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

us  all.  We  can  never  repay  you  but  by  loving  you 
dearly,  as  we  do." 

"  I  know  you  do,  child.  I  know  it.  But  liow  vividly 
the  old  times  come  back  to  me  to-day.  For  Old  Ma- 
nassa  there  once  asked  me  to  be  his  wife,  but  I  had  no 
heart  to  give.  It  was  buried,  years  ago,  in  the  grave 
of  my  husband." 

"  Dear  Clarine,  is  love  so  tenacious  as  to  wed  a  liv- 
ing heart  to  the  tomb?  " 

"  ISTot  all  hearts,  dear,  but  mine  could  never  love 
again." 

"  I  suppose  the  times  and  the  people  have  changed 
much  since  you  were  a  girl,  Clarine." 

"  Ah,  yes,  child,"  said  the  nurse.  "  The  people  most 
of  all.  I  remember  when  this  castle  was  a  fortress  for 
hundreds  of  brave  warriors  and,  too,  when  poor  refugees 
sought  safety  within  its  strong  walls.  Ali,  me,  those 
were  dreadful  times.  I  have  seen  a  hundred  soldiers 
upon  the  ramparts,  firing  upon  our  enemies,  and  many 
a  prisoner  has  ended  his  life  in  the  tower  dungeon." 

"  The  dungeon !  I  never  knew  there  was  one.  Do 
my  brothers  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  No  human  being  but  myself  knows.  Even  Old 
Manassa  there  is  ignorant  of  its  existence.  To  my 
hands  alone  was  intrusted  the  duty  of  carrying  food  to 
the  poor  prisoners  confined  there,  who  were  destined 
never  more  to  see  the  light  of  day." 

"  Oh,  Clarine,  can  this  be  true !  "  Vivienne  cried. 
"  You  did  but  dream  it.  You  sometimes  have  bad 
dreams,  you  know,  when  you  are  not  well." 

"  Ah,  child,  you  will  soon  know  whether  it  be  a 
dream.  Now,  listen  to  me,  darling ;  don't  lose  a  word  I 
say,  for  I  am  about  to  impart  a  message  from  the  dead." 

"What?     From  the  dead?" 

"  Yes,  from  your  dead  father.  He  called  me  into 
the  library  two  hours  before  he  went  out  for  the  last 
time  alive.     He  shut  the  door,  took  my  hand  in  his,  and 


A  MESSAGE  FROM  THE  DEAD.         203 

made  me  promise  that  upon  your  eighteenth  birthday  I 
would  impart  to  you  a  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  the 
dungeon,  and  also  give  you  a  paper  of  written  instruc- 
tions, telling  you  how  to  open  its  great  door — a  door 
which  can  never  be  unfastened  but  by  one  possessing 
the  secret  of  its  complicated  springs  and  bars." 

"  But  why  did  my  father  desire  this  secret  to  be  di- 
vulged to  me  alone  ?    Why  not  to  my  brothers  as  well  ?  " 

"  He  thought,  no  doubt,  that  they  might,  in  some 
emergency,  make  bad  use  of  such  knowledge.  He  knew 
not  how  headstrong  they  might  become,  or  how  fiery 
their  passions  might  be  when  they  reached  manhood. 
He  had  come  to  abhor  the  spirit  of  revenge  and  murder 
which  pervades  our  country.  I  will  repeat  to  you  his 
very  words :  '  My  daughter's  gentle  heart  will  under- 
stand my  motives  when  you  say  to  her  from  me; 
!N^ever  open  that  door  except  in  case  of  great  extremity, 
and  never  reveal  the  secret  to  any  living  being  unless  it 
be  to  save  human  life ! '  " 

"  To  what  extremity  could  I  ever  be  driven  which 
would  oblige  me  to  open  that  terrible  door  ?  I  shudder 
to  think  of  it,  Clarine." 

"  Heaven  knows,  child — ^we  do  not.  But  I  believe 
such  a  time  will  come." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  What  good  reason  can 
you  give  ?  " 

"  Your  father  had  a  presentiment  that  he  would  die 
a  violent  death  when  he  was  a  comparatively  young 
man,  and  he  told  me  that  when  the  door  was  opened  by 
your  hand,  he  would  be  there  to  meet  you." 

"  Ah,  Clarine,  I  think  it  is  superstition  rather  than 
reason  that  leads  you  to  think  as  you  do.  I  never  saw 
my  dear  father,  nor  my  mother  to  know  her,  but  my 
father's  words  are  sacred  to  me  and  I  will  be  true  to  the 
trust  that  he  has  confided  to  me." 

"You  had  a  noble  father  and  a  beautiful  mother. 
He  was  brutally  murdered  by  an  assassin.    When  your 


204  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

poor  mother  heard  the  news,  just  after  you  were  bom, 
she  went  out  of  her  mind,  and  a  few  days  later  we  laid 
her  beside  the  one  whom  she  had  loved  so  well.  Their 
blood  cried  aloud  for  vengeance,  but  the  murderer  was 
a  coward.  He  ran  away  from  Corsica  and  the  curse  of 
Rimhecco  still  rests  upon  our  family.  But  come,  child, 
we  have  talked  enough  about  such  matters.  Let  us  go 
into  the  garden  and  the  bright  sunshine  will  drive  away 
unha])py  memories." 

When  they  had  gone,  Manassa  opened  his  eyes,  then, 
raising  his  oaken  staff,  brought  it  down  upon  the  floor 
with  all  the  strength  he  possessed. 

"  They  say  women  cannot  keep  a  secret,  but  Clarine 
has  kept  that  one  for  nearly  eighteen  years.  She  would 
have  made  a  good  wife,  but  she  wouldn't  have  me,  al- 
though I  was  only  seventy-five  when  I  proposed  to  her. 
I  think  I  know  where  that  dungeon  is  and  I  will  find 
out  how  to  open  the  door.  But  when  I  shut  it,  I  hope 
that  Manuel  Delia  Corsica  and  his  son  Vandemar  will 
be  on  the  inside.  When  they  are,  I  shall  never  try  to 
open  the  door.  I^o,  I  will  let  them  starve  and  die  there 
— then  no  one  can  say  Rimhecco  to  the  Batistellis,  or 
to  their  servants  who  love  them  and  will  ever  be  faith- 
ful to  them," 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  AVENGEE  OF  BLOOD. 

"No  two  individuals  could  be  more  dissimilar  as  re- 
gards the  essentials  which  enter  into  the  composition  of 
human  character,  than  Helen  Enright  and  Vivienne 
Batistelli.  Helen's  education  had  been  devoted  chiefly 
to  the  head,  with  but  little  attention  to  the  finer  sensi- 
bilities, and  virtually  none  at  all  to  the  passions  of  the 
heart.  Mrs.  Inchbald  and  Mary  WoUstonecraft  had 
not  voiced  the  rights,  or  rather  the  wrongs,  of  women, 
so  that  her  education  was  the  result  of  an  individual 
inspiration  instead  of  proceeding  from  a  preconcerted 
and  combined  movement  on  the  part  of  her  sex.  She 
was  fortunate  in  having  a  father  who  loved  her  so  well 
that  he  pushed  aside  the  conventionalities  of  the  time 
and  allowed  his  daughter  to  have  her  own  sweet  will  in 
everything  which  did  not  interfere  with  his  personal 
comfort 

When  he  fully  realised  the  extent  of  her  acquire- 
ments, he  became  intensely  proud  of  her ;  but  his  praises 
in  those  days  were  more  calculated  to  drive  away 
suitors  than  to  attract  them,  for  by  the  men  of  that  time 
a  highly  educated  woman  was  looked  upon  as  one  to 
be  avoided  and  not  likely  to  make,  what  Englishmen 
most  desire,  an  obedient  wife. 

On  the  other  hand,  Vivienne's  education  had  been  al- 
most wholly  of  the  heart.  She  could  read  and  write 
the  French  language  quite  well  and  had  also  acquired 
a  fair  knowledge  of  the  English.  If  her  father  and 
mother  had  lived,  she  would,  no  doubt,  have  been  sent 
to  France  to  receive  fuller  instruction,  but  when  she 

205 


206  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

arrived  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  she  became,  by  her 
brother  Pascal's  wish,  and  with  no  opposition  on  her 
part,  mistress  of  the  house;  always  subject,  of  course, 
in  important  matters,  to  the  will  of  her  elder  brother, 
who  was  master  in  all  things. 

Left  fatherless  and  motherless  within  a  few  days  of 
her  birth,  the  little  Vivienne  had  grown  up  under  the 
care  of  Clarine,  her  nurse,  who  had  been  in  the  serv- 
ice of  the  Batistelli  family  since  her  mother  had  been 
an  infant.  Stories  about  fairies,  the  folklore  of  the 
country,  and  tales  of  bloody  vendettas,  had  been  poured 
into  the  child's  ears  by  Clarine  and  Manassa.  In  this 
way  her  perceptive  powers  and  sensibilities  were  domi- 
nated by  the  physical  rather  than  the  mental.  She  had 
led  a  retired  life,  for  her  brother  Pascal  was  not  social 
in  his  nature.  Julien  was  too  much  so,  but  his  asso- 
ciates were  never  welcome  to  the  hospitalities  of  the 
house.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  agreement,  or  rather 
understanding,  between  the  old  Count  Mont  d'Oro  and 
Pascal's  father,  regarding  the  marriage  of  Napier  and 
Vivienne,  the  young  girl  would  have  grown  up  fancy- 
free,  so  far  as  love  of  man  was  concerned — ^meaning, 
of  course,  any  particular  man. 

As  Vivienne,  although  she  avoided  argument  upon 
the  subject  with  her  brother,  had  given  the  young  Count 
Mont  d'Oro  no  encouragement  in  his  suit,  having  met 
all  his  advances  with  mock  disdain  or  cool  rebuff — and 
as  Helen  Enright's  heart  had  been  regarded  as  unas- 
sailable— the  young  god  Cupid  and  his  dangerous  ar- 
rows never  formed  the  subject  of  conversation  between 
the  two  young  ladies.  Helen  told  Vivienne  about  Eng- 
land, its  king  and  princes,  its  nobility  and  gentry.  De- 
spite the  English  girl's  graphic  description  of  England's 
greatness  and  glory,  the  young  Corsican  girl  failed  to 
gain  an  adequate  conception  of  the  scenes  described  to 
her ;  but  when  her  turn  came  to  speak,  when  she  talked 
of  Corsica,  its  traditions,  its  customs,  and  its  people,  the 


THE  AVENGER  OF  BLOOD.  207 

English  girl  fully  understood  and  made  copious  entries 
in  the  journal  which  she  had  kept  since  her  departure 
from  England. 

The  two  girls  were  naturally  thrown  into  daily  com- 
panionship. Like  all  Englishwomen,  Helen  was  fond 
of  outdoor  life,  and  a  great  lover  of  the  beauties  of 
nature.  Vivienue  would  have  remained  within  doors, 
but  Helen  induced  her  to  accompany  her  in  daily  ram- 
bles, during  which  every  part  of  the  extensive  grounds 
surrounding  the  Batistelli  mansion  was  visited,  and 
many  excursions  were  made  into  the  surrounding 
maquis,  although  Pascal,  upon  one  occasion,  said  he 
felt  it  was  his  duty  to  warn  Miss  Enright,  being  a 
stranger,  that  she  ran  the  risk  of  being  captured  by 
banditti,  carried  off  into  the  mountains,  and  h6ld  for 
a  large  ransom. 

One  day  they  were  walking  in  the  grounds  when 
Helen  espied  a  path  which,  it  occurred  to  her,  had  not 
yet  been  travelled.  It  was  very  short,  not  more  than 
thirty  feet  in  length,  and  seemed  to  end  in  a  mass  of 
dense  foliage.  When  this  was  reached,  however,  a  nar- 
rower path  leading  to  the  left  was  disclosed  which, 
when  followed,  brought  them  to  the  foot  of  a  great  oak 
tree.  Helen  had  previously  seen  and  admired  this  tree 
and  spoken  of  it  to  Vivienne,  but  as  the  latter  had 
made  no  comment,  Helen  supposed  that  it  was  inacces- 
sible. 

"  And  does  this  grand  old  tree  stand  upon  your  es- 
tate ?  "  asked  Helen. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "  and  they  say,  I  do  not  know 
with  how  much  truth,  that  it  is  three  hundred  years 
old.  It  is  called  The  Tree  of  the  Vendetta.  Clarine 
says  her  mother  told  her  that  a  terrible  feud  existed 
between  two  Corsican  families,  each  of  which,  it  so 
happened,  had  six  grown-up  sons.  The  father  of  one 
of  the  families  killed  the  father  of  the  other.  The  sons 
of  the  latter,  with  other  relatives,  at  night  attacked  the 


208  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

house  in  which  the  father  and  his  six  sons  lived  and  set 
it  on  fire,  and  as  their  enemies  ran  out  to  escape  the 
flames  and  smoke,  shot  them  down,  the  bright  light  of 
the  fire  exposing  them  to  the  shots  of  their  adversaries, 
who  were  in  the  shadows,  or  concealed  behind  trees." 

"  Oh,  what  barbarism !  "  ejaculated  Helen. 

*•'  It  is  the  custom  of  the  country,"  Vivienne  re- 
marked, and  there  was  a  coolness  in  her  tone  which  did 
not  escape  her  companion's  notice.  Eor  several  min- 
utes neither  spoke.     Then  Helen  asked: 

"  But  how  did  the  tree  get  its  name  ?  Was  it  close 
to  the  house  ?  " 

"  More  barbarism  followed,"  Vivienne  replied,  with 
a  touch  of  sarcasm.  "  As  the  family  was  virtually  ex- 
tinct, the  victors  buried  them  at  the  foot  of  this  tree. 
You  see,  we  do  not  print  history  in  this  country,  but 
we  remember  it." 

"  I  hope  with  all  my  heart,"  said  Helen,  "  that  you 
have  no  such  memories  connected  with  the  past." 

"  There  you  are  wrong,"  cried  Vivienne,  and  her 
voice,  which  up  to  this  time  had  been  subdued,  now  be- 
came strong  and  impassioned.  "  I  have  a  sad  memory 
and,  as  what  I  have  said  to  you  may  cause  you  to  mis- 
imderstand  my  true  feeling,  I  will  tell  you  all.  The 
very  day  that  I  was  bom  my  father  became  the  victim 
of  an  assassin.  My  brothers  tell  me  that  my  father  had 
no  quarrel  with  the  man  who  murdered  him  and  he 
must  have  been  hired  by  some  one  to  do  the  cruel  deed. 
He  was  a  coward,  for  that  very  night  he  took  his  only 
child,  a  little  boy  six  years  old,  and  fled  from  the 
country,  so  that  my  brothers  are  deprived  of  the  op- 
portunity of  avenging  the  death  of  our  father.  There 
are  none  who  dare  to  say  Rimbecco  to  my  brothers,  but 
many  think  it  in  their  hearts." 

"  Rimbecco !  ^^  cried  Helen.  "What  does  that 
mean  ? " 

"  Bimbecco,"  explained  Vivienne,  "  is  a  reproachful 


THE  AVENGER  OF  BLOOD.  209 

word  spoken  to  a  member  of  a  Corsican  family  by  an- 
other member  of  the  family,  or  one  of  its  adherents,  be- 
cause the  assassination  of  a  relative  has  not  been  fol- 
lowed, within  a  reasonable  time,  by  the  killing  of  the 
assassin  or  some  member  of  his  family.  Rimhecco  is 
the  worst  taunt  that  can  be  thrown  in  the  face  of  a  Cor- 
sican, for  it  is  considered  as  declaring  him  to  be  even 
baser  than  a  coward.  If  Manuel  Delia  Coscia,  who 
murdered  my  father,  and  his  son  Vandemar,  who  must 
now  be  twenty-four  years  of  age,  are  still  living,  they 
must  remain  exiles  or  return  to  Corsica  and  answer  with 
their  lives  for  the  great  crime  which  has  been  com- 
mitted." 

"  But  you  who  are  so  kind  to  the  unfortunate,  so  good 
to  all,  can  you  not  avert  the  doom  which  threatens  an  in- 
nocent victim  ?  Young  Vandemar,  the  last  of  his  race, 
is  surely  guiltless.  Is  it  just  that  he  should  suffer 
death  for  no  fault  of  his  own  ?  " 

"  Men  are  killed  in  war  for  no  fault  of  their  own," 
said  Vivienne. 

"  Alas,  yes,"  replied  Helen,  "  but  that  is  unavoid- 
able. Suppose  that,  instead  of  your  father  becoming 
the  victim,  he  had  killed  his  assailant?  " 

Vivienne  responded  quickly :  "  It  would  then  rest 
with  his  son,  now  that  he  has  grown  to  manhood,  to 
avenge  his  father  by  killing  my  brothers." 

"  Oh,  tell  me,"  cried  Helen,  "  that  you  do  not  favour 
this  cruel,  wicked  custom !  Tell  me,  dear  friend,  that 
you  abhor  it  as  I  do !  " 

"  I  regret  the  necessity,"  Vivienne  replied. 

"  And  according  to  the  custom  of  your  country,  your 
elder  brother  must  commit  this  terrible  deed  ?  " 

"  He  must." 

"But  if  he  dies  before  accomplishing  it?"  asked 
Helen. 

"  It  will  then  devolve  upon  my  younger  brother, 
Julien." 


210  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  And  in  case  he  dies  ?  "  was  Helen's  next  inquiry. 

"  It  will  then  devolve  upon " 

"  Xo,  no,  no.  Do  not  speak,  Vivienne !  I  cannot 
bear  it !  You  do  not  mean  it  Oh,  tell  me  that  I  am 
dreaming — that  you  did  not  mean  to  say " 

"  If  both  should  die  and  I  should  live,"  cried  Vivi- 
enne, excitedly,  "  it  would  be  my  duty  to  avenge  my 
father's  death,  or  his  blood  would  be  upon  my  own 
hands.  Manuel  Delia  Coscia  and  his  son  Vandemar 
are  enemies  of  my  family,  and  if  no  other  hand  can  do 
it,  mine  must  send  the  bullet  or  handle  the  stiletto." 

Count  Mont  d'Oro  had  so  far  recovered  from  his 
injury  that  he  was  able  to  get  about  with  the  help  of  a 
couple  of  walking-sticks.  His  progress  was  necessarily 
slow  and  any  little  inadvertence  caused  him  severe  pain. 
On  such  occasions,  his  thoughts  naturally  reverted  to  his 
antagonist.  He  had  heard  from  Villefort  of  the  ill-suc- 
cess of  his  scheme  to  entrap  Victor,  and  of  the  terrible 
fate  of  the  would-be  murderers,  both  of  whom  had  been 
found  dead  in  the  maquis. 

As  soon  as  the  Count  acquired  a  limited  degree 
of  locomotion,  he  made  his  way  to  the  stables,  ordered 
the  carriage,  and  was  driven  at  once  to  the  hotel  in 
Ajaccio.  A  messenger  was  despatched  in  search  of 
Villefort,  whose  headquarters  were  at  a  cabaret  kept  by 
Angelo  Barbera. 

Villefort  oame  at  once  in  response  to  the  summons, 
and  was  soon  closeted  with  the  Count. 

"  That  young  devil  of  an  Englishman  has  a  charmed 
life,"  said  Villefort 

"  Perhaps  so,"  the  Count  replied,  "  but  you  know 
there  is  an  old  saying  that  the  third  time  never  fails. 
In  order  that  the  saying  may  not  be  disproved,  we  must 
make  sure  of  our  game  this  time." 

Wine  and  cigars  were  ordered,  and  the  two  worthies 
cudgelled  their  brains  to  think  of  some  plan  by  which 


THE  AVENGER  OF  BLOOD.  211 

Victor  might  be  put  in  their  power.  How  he  could  be 
summarily  disposed  of  was  a  matter  which  must  be 
decided  later. 

Villefort  looked  up  suddenly  and  asked : 

"  What  was  the  name  of  the  man  who  killed  Pascal 
Batistelli's  father  ?  " 

The  Count  replied :  "  Manuel  Delia  Coscia — his 
son's  name  was  Vandemar." 

"  Then  the  son's  initials  would  be  V.  D.  C,  would 
they  not  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  but  what  are  you  looking  at  so  intently  ?  " 

"By  Saint  Christopher!"  cried  Villefort,  "but' this 
is  strange !  " 

"  What  is  strange  ?  Speak  up  and  don't  sit  there 
with  your  mouth  open  like  a  stuck  pig.'* 

"  Spare  me  your  compliments,"  said  Villefort,  "  or 
I  may  be  forced  to  demand  an  apology." 

The  Count  laughed.  "  Pardon  me,  Villefort,  but  the 
jolting  of  that  clumsy  carriage  over  that  infernally 
rough  road  has  filled  my  foot  with  a  dozen  toothaches. 
But  what  have  you  found  ? " 

"  They  may  mean  something  or  nothing,  but  here, 
cut  in  the  talDle,  and  the  cuts  are  fresh  ones,  are  the 
initials  V.  D.  C.  They  are  a  clue  to  something — ^but 
wliat  ?  " 

"  Go  downstairs,"  said  the  Count,  "  and  find  out 
who  last  occupied  this  room." 

In  a  short  time  Villefort  returned  with  the  informa- 
tion that  the  room  had  not  been  occupied  since  the  young 
gentleman  who  was  in  the  company  of  the  English  ad- 
miral had  left  it. 

"  So  our  man  put  up  here,"  said  the  Count.  "  But 
why  V.  D.  C.  ?  " 

"  Perliaps  his  name  is  spelled  D-u  C-a-i-n,"  sug- 
gested Villefort. 

"  Guessing  won't  hit  the  mark,"  the  Count  cried. 
"  Have  you  no  wits  ?     Five  louis  d'or  if  you  prove  that 


212  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Vandemar  Delia  Coscia  and  the  Englishman  are  one 
and  the  same  person!  Think  of  something.  Use  the 
carriage  if  jou  need  it.  Come  back  in  an  hour.  I  am 
going  to  lie  down  and  rest  to  see  if  I  can  get  rid  of 
this  damnable  torture.  If  he  had  given  me  a  cut  with 
his  axe,  it  would  have  healed  long  ago." 

Villefort  did  not  take  the  carriage,  but  walked  slowly 
along  the  main  street,  wondering  how  he  could  earn  the 
promised  reward. 

"  The  price  offered  is  very  small,"  he  soliloquised, 
"  but  if  I  succeed,  I  shall  make  bold  to  suggest  to  the 
Count  that  he  double  it." 

He  stopped  short  and  looked  across  the  street.  Right 
opposite  stood  Barbera's  cabaret.  A  thought  occurred 
to  him.  He  entered  the  place,  and  beckoning  to  the 
proprietor,  they  went  upstairs  to  the  latter's  room. 

"  Do  you  want  to  make  a  louis  d'or,  Barbera  ?  " 

"  I  could  make  a  good  many  if  that  English  admiral 
would  let  his  sailors  come  ashore." 

"  Well,  if  you  wish  to  earn  from  me  what  you  can't 
earn  from  the  sailors,  sit  down  here  and  write  a  let- 
ter which  I  will  dictate  to  you." 

Villefort  began: 

"  Monsieur  Angelo  Barbera  solicits  an  immediate 
visit.  He  has  learned  of  a  plot  against  your  life,  but 
prefers  to  disclose  particulars  to  you  in  person.  Men- 
tion this  matter  to  no  one.  Bring  this  letter  with  you 
for  identification." 

"  Now  fold  it  up  and  seal  it,"  said  Villefort. 

"  To  whom  shall  I  address  it  ?  "  asked  Barbera. 

"  I  will  attend  to  that,"  said  Villefort.  "  Give  me 
the  letter." 

"  Where  is  my  louis  d'or  ?  " 

"  Yon  shall  have  it  within  an  hour,"  said  Villefort. 
"  I  will  tell  vou  what  I  have  been  up  to  Avhen  I  come 
back." 

He  snatched  the  letter  from  Barbera's    hand,    ran 


THE  AVENGER  OF  BLOOD.  213 

down-stairs  and  made  his  way  quickly  to  the  quay, 
lie  engaged  a  boat  and  soon  reached  the  gangway  of 
the  Osprey,  where  he  was  met  by  the  marine  on  guard. 

"  My  friend,  the  Count  Mont  d'Oro,  is  acquainted 
with  the  Lieutenant  who  is  with  your  admiral  on  shore. 
He  has  purchased  for  him  a  present  of  silver,  of  which 
he  intends  to  make  me  the  bearer,  sending  with  it  this 
letter.  He  knows  that  the  Lieutenant's  name  is  Vic- 
tor Duquesne,  but  he  has  thought  that  perhaps  the 
young  gentleman  has  another  name  besides  Victor,  and, 
to  speak  frankly,  the  Count  does  not  know  exactly  how 
to  spell  his  name." 

"  You  have  come  to  the  right  man,  sir,"  said  the 
marine.  "  I  received  word  at  Malta  that  my  poor  old 
mother  was  dead;  that  she  had  been  buried  in  God's 
Acre,  and  that  she  would  have  to  remain  there  unless  I 
sent  home  some  money  to  have  her  laid  beside  my  father 
in  the  village  burying-ground.  I  told  the  Lieutenant 
that  I  had  drank  and  gambled  away  all  my  money  at 
Malta  and  he  very  kindly  started  a  subscription  for  me, 
leading  the  paper  with  a  pound.  I  remember  that  I 
asked  him  if  the  name  he  had  written  was  his  full 
name,  and  he  said — ^yes.  I  have  the  paper  in  my  pocket 
now." 

Villefort  examined  it  carefully.  "  Victor  Duquesne," 
was  what  he  saw. 

"  A  thousand  thanks,"  said  he,  as  he  returned  the 
paper,  at  the  same  time  giving  the  man  a  silver  coin. 
"  Oblige  me,  and  my  friend  the  Count,  by  saying  noth- 
ing about  this  to  Lieutenant  Duquesne.  The  Count  is 
greatly  mortified  at  being  obliged  to  discover  his  friend's 
real  name  in  such  a  roundabout  way,  and  it  would  add 
to  his  chagrin  if  the  Lieutenant  should  hear  about  it." 

"  I  understand,"  said  the  man.  "  If  a  piece  of  silver 
is  big  enough,  it  always  closes  my  mouth." 

An  hour  had  hardly  elapsed  before  Villefort  reported 
his  finding  to  the  Count. 


214  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Count,  but  in  order  to  secure 
this  valuable  infonnation,  which  I  think  must  convince 
you  that  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia  is  in  Corsica,  and  a 
guest " 

"  What  are  you  begging  my  pardon  for,  Villef ort  ? 
I  can  imagine  as  well  as  you  can.  What  did  you  do 
to  obtain  this  supposed  valuable  information  ?  "  and  the 
Count's  voice  had  a  marked  tinge  of  sarcasm  in  it. 

"  I  have  promised  to  pay  a  louis  d'or  for  valuable  as- 
sistance." 

"  Well,  there  are  your  louis  d'or,"  said  the  Count. 
"  I  did  not  promise  to  pay  for  assistance.  Come,  help 
me  down  to  the  carriage.  I  must  get  home,  for  my  foot 
aches  worse  than  ever." 

As  they  neared  the  cabaret,  the  Count  said :  "  Ville- 
fort,  have  Barbera  send  me  out  some  brandy." 

Villefort  gave  the  order  and  placed  the  louis  d'or  in 
Barbera's  hand,  saying  at  the  same  time,  as  he  handed 
back  the  letter: 

"  I  could  not  use  it.  The  bird  had  flown.  Tear  it 
up,  and  may  you  always  earn  a  louis  d'or  as  easily." 

The  Count  swallowed  half  a  tumblerful  of  brandy  at 
a  gulp.  As  they  rode  on  he  said  to  himself :  "  What  a 
fine  piece  of  news  it  will  be  for  Pascal  Batistelli  when 
I  tell  him  that  his  guest,  the  English  lieutenant,  is  the 
son  of  the  man  who  murdered  his  father.  But  he  shall 
never  know  it  until  his  sister  is  my  wife.  She  hates 
me,  but  I  mil  make  her  suffer  for  it.  If  she  loved  me, 
she  might  marry  whom  she  chose." 

Countess  Mont  d'Oro  and  Bertha  had  been  greatly 
pleased  when  the  young  Count  became  convalescent  and 
was  able  to  leave  his  room. 

"  I  hope,"  said  the  Countess,  "  that  Napier  will  soon 
long  for  the  artificial  delights  of  Paris  and  leave  us 
alone  to  enjoy  the  natural  beauties  of  Corsica.  I  had 
intended  to  take  you  with  me  to  visit  many  of  my  old 
friends,  but  for  this  unfortunate  and  unforeseen  acci- 


THE  AVENGER  OF  BLOOD.  215 

dent.  However,  we  shall  begin  our  round  of  gaiety 
shortly,  for  I  have  to-day  received  invitations  for  you 
and  me  to  attend  the  party  to  be  given  in  honour  of 
Mademoiselle  Vivienne  Batistelli,  who  will  soon  reach 
her  eighteenth  birthday." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"  WHO  IS  MASTER  HEEB  ?  " 

At  the  Count's  request,  Villefort  accompanied  him 
home  and  assisted  him  to  his  room.  The  Count's  next 
desire  was  that  he  would  summon  the  physician  who 
was  attendant  upon  him,  and  Villefort  complied, 
inwardly  grumbling  because  the  carriage  was  not  placed 
at  his  service.  The  doctor  was  out  and  not  expected  to 
return  for  a  couple  of  hours.  Ordinarily,  imder  such 
circumstances,  he  would  have  gone  back  to  the  Count 
and  have  informed  him  of  the  prospective  delay. 

He  took  out  the  four  louis  d'or  and  looked  at  them: 

"  How  cursed  mean  to  make  me  pay  Barbera !  I  ex- 
pected at  least  ten  louis  d'or  for  myself  besides  the  one 
for  expenses.  I  have  always  said  that  if  he  played  me 
a  mean  trick,  I  would  drop  him.  He  has  never  half 
paid  me  for  what  I  have  done." 

Thus  soliloquising,  he  walked  on  until  he  once  more 
reached  the  cabaret.  Again  he  beckoned  to  Barbera  to 
follow  him  to  the  private  room. 

"  I  have  an  explanation  to  make  to  you,"  said  Ville- 
fort. 

"  I  think    it    is    about  time,"  exclaimed  Barbera. ' 
"  ^Vhat  in  the  devil  did  you  get  me  to  write  such  a  let- 
ter for,  then  bring  it  back  and  tell  me  to  tear  it  up  ?     I 
thought  you  had  something  on  hand  that  would  pay  us 
both  well." 

"  That's  what  I'm  going  to  explain,"  said  Villefort. 
"  Order  up  a  bottle  of  wine.  I'm  cursed  thirsty,  for  I 
have  been  walking  an  hour  over  dusty  roads,  and  I  get 
nothing  for  my  time  or  trouble." 

216 


"WHO  IS  MASTER  HERE?"  2l7 

"  I  thought  Monsieur  Villefort  was  too  sharp-witted, 
and  his  services  too  valuable,  to  long  serve  a  poor  pay- 
master." 

"  I  am  done  with  him !  "  cried  Villefort  with  sud- 
den determination,  and,  as  he  spoke,  he  brought  his 
wine-glass  down  upon  the  table  with  such  force  as  to 
break  it  into  fragments. 

"Well  spoken,  Villefort!"  cried  Barbera.  "You 
are  too  smart  a  man  to  play  second  fiddle  always." 

"'  I'm  coming  to  think  so  myself,"  said  Villefort 
"  Let  me  explain.  I  am  going  to  tell  you  the  whole 
^f<^ry,  but  you  must  keep  your  mouth  shut." 

"  If  I  told  all  I  knew,"  said  Barbera,  "  there  would 
he  many  more  widows  in  Ajaccio  than  there  are  now. 
But  go  on." 

"Well,  the  fact  is,"  began  Villefort,  "  Vandemar 
Delia  Coscia  is  in  Corsica." 

"  I  don't  believe  it !  "  cried  Barbera. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Villefort,  "  so  we  won't  argue  the 
matter.  That  young  Englishman  whom  they  call  Vic- 
tor Duquesne  is  really  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia  in  dis- 
guise. You  know  all  about  the  duel  between  Count 
Mont  d'Oro  and  the  Englishman,  so  I  won't  go  over 
that  again.  You  have  heard,  I  suppose,  that  Paoli 
Tarenti  and  Giuseppe  Mondolo  were  found  dead  in  the 
woods." 

"  Yes !  "  cried  Barbera.  "  Do  you  know  who  killed 
them?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  am  going  to  tell  you.  I  got  Paoli  and 
his  friend  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  the  Englishman  and 
finish  him  before  it  was  over." 

"  What  did  you  have  against  him  ?  "  asked  Barbera. 

"  Nothing,  but  Count  Mont  d'Oro  wished  to  get 
him  out  of  the  way  and  I  did  what  I  could  to  help 
hun." 

"  For  a  consideration,  of  course,"  said  Barbera,  smil- 
ing. 


218  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  And  a  mighty  poor  one,  too,"  said  Villefort. 
"  Only  five  poor  little  louis  d'or,  and  I  gave  you  one  for 
writing  that  letter." 

"  That  letter  is  what  I  wish  to  know  about,"  re- 
joined Barbera. 

Villefort  then  told  how  the  initials  "  V.  D.  C."  were 
found  cut  into  the  table,  and  how  it  had  occurred  to 
both  the  Count  and  himself  that  the  supposed  English- 
man was  in  reality  a  Corsican. 

"  The  Count  wished  me  to  find  out  whether  the  Lieu- 
tenant had  a  middle  name.  When  I  came  to  you  and 
asked  you  to  write  the  letter,  my  idea  was  to  have  the 
Englishman  drugged,  then  send  for  the  Count,  and  let 
him  settle  the  matter  in  his  own  way.  On  my  way  to 
the  English  frigate,  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  was  getting 
too  deeply  compromised,  with  no  promise  of  reward, 
and,  especially,  nothing  in  advance.  You  see,  I  asked 
the  hotel  keeper  who  had  last  occupied  the  room,  and 
found  it  was  the  Englishman ;  then  I  asked  you  to  write 
the  letter,  and,  besides,  whoever  I  met  at  the  vessel 
would  surely  remember  me.  I  knew  the  Count 
wouldn't  give  his  life  to  save  mine  and  I  didn't  propose 
to  give  mine  for  nothing.  So  I  managed  the  affair  in 
another  way,  found  out  all  that  I  wished  to  know,  and 
that's  why  I  told  you  to  destroy  the  letter." 

"  Well !  "  cried  Barbera,  "  I  wouldn't  have  done  that 
job  under  twenty-five  louis !  " 

"  I  got  five  and  had  to  pay  you  one  out  of  it,  and 
that's  why  I'm  through  with  Count  Mont  d'Oro.  I 
can  stand  anything  in  a  man  but  meanness.  I'll  make 
him  pay  dearly  for  that  louis  d'or — damn  me  if  I 
don't." 

After  Villefort  left  the  cabaret  his  copious  draughts 
of  wine  began  to  take  effect. 

"  How  shall  I  get  even  with  him  ?  By  St.  Christo- 
pher! I  have  it.  He  will  tell  Pascal  Batistelli  and 
the  old  vendetta  will  be  revived.    There  is  one  man  in 


"WHO  IS  MASTER  HERE?"  219 

Corsica  who  is  bound  to  put  down  the  vendetta.  They 
call  him  Cromillian,  the  moral  bandit.  I  will  go  and 
see  him.  There'll  be  no  money  in  it,  but  revenge  is 
sweet,  and  Count  Mont  d'Oro  and  his  friend  Pascal 
will  find  themselves  deprived  of  their  victim." 

As  the  anniversary  of  her  birthday  approached,  Vi- 
vienne  spent  the  greater  part  of  her  time  with  her  old 
nurse,  Clarine.  Rendered  motherless,  as  she  had  been 
when  only  a  few  days  old,  Clarine  had  been  both  nurse 
and  mother  to  her,  and  it  was  only  natural  that  she 
should  pour  into  the  ear  of  her  only  confidante  those 
troubles  and  secrets  which  a  young  girl  usually  makes 
known  to  her  mother  alone. 

One  morning  she  sat  talking  to  Clarine,  the  coming 
birthday  party  being  the  subject  under  consideration. 
As  was  his  habit  of  late.  Old  Manassa  was  apparently 
asleep  in  his  arm-chair,  but  still  half  conscious  of  what 
was  going  on.  The  conversation  between  Vivienne  and 
her  old  nurse  was  interrupted  by  the  sudden  entrance 
of  Pascal,  who,  paying  no  attention  to  the  other  occu- 
pants of  the  room,  approached  Vivienne  and  asked, 
abruptly : 

"  Have  you  sent  out  all  your  invitations  for  the 
party  ? " 

Vivienne  looked  up  inquiringly  and  answered: 
"  Yes." 

"  That  is  strange,"  said  her  brother ;  "  I  saw  Count 
Mont  d'Oro  this  morning  and  he  told  me  that  he  had 
not  received  one." 

"  I  did  not  desire  his  company,"  Vivienne  replied, 
"  and,  therefore,  did  not  invite  him.  I  have  asked  the 
Countess  his  mother,  and  Miss  Renville,  and  that 
ought  to  satisfy  you." 

But  Pascal  was  not  satisfied.  Tie  had  met  the  Count 
that  morning,  who  had  told  him  that  he  had  a  most 
important  secret  to  communicate,  but  that  it  would  not 


220  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

be  proper  to  tell  it  until  his  sister  Vivienne  had  become 
Countess  Mont  d'Oro.     He  had  added: 

"  Vivienne  will  be  a  woman  in  a  few  days.  Why  not 
have  the  wedding  occur  within  a  week  thereafter  and 
end  all  this  nonsense  ?  " 

The  Count  then  remarked  that  he  had  not  received 
an  invitation  to  the  birthday  party. 

Again  turning  to  his  sister,  Pascal  said :  "  I  pre- 
sume that  you  have  invited  Lieutenant  Duquesne." 

"  How  could  I  omit  him,"  asked  Vivienne,  "  when 
he  is  our  own  guest  ?  " 

"  I  invited  him,"  said  Pascal,  "  out  of  compliment  to 
the  Admiral,  but  did  not  suppose  that  he  would  accept, 
nor  would  he  have  done  so  if  he  had  not  met  you  that 
day  in  the  garden." 

"  I  am  ashamed  of  you,  Pascal,"  cried  Vivienne. 
"  You  have  no  right  to  speak  to  me  in  that  way,  even  if 
you  are  my  brother.  You  have  no  right  to  assume  that 
Lieutenant  Duquesne  and  I  are  anything  more  to  each 
other  than  acquaintances — ^no,  that  is  not  quite  honest 
— I  mean  good  friends." 

"  If  you  do  mot  invite  Count  Mont  d'Oro,"  said  Pas- 
cal, "  I  shall.  But,  considering  their  enmity  to  each 
other,  it  would  be  the  height  of  incivility  to  ask  both 
the  Count  and  the  Lieutenant.  I  will  tell  the  English- 
man that  his  invitation  has  expired  by  limitation,  or 
better  still,  I  will  ask  the  Admiral  to  send  him  back  to 
his  ship." 

"  I  have  invited  Admiral  Enright  and  his  daughter. 
It  would  be  the  height  of  incivility,  as  you  term  it,  not 
to  ask  Lieutenant  Duquesne.  You  can  tell  both  the 
Count  and  Lieutenant  Duquesne  that  the  other  is  com- 
ing and,  if  they  do  not  wish  to  meet,  both  can  stay 
away." 

"  Is  that  the  proper  way  for  a  young  lady  to  treat 
her  betrothed  lover  ?  "  asked  Pascal,  indignantly. 

"Pascal,  you  have  no  right  to  dispose  of  my  hand 


"WHO  IS  MASTER  HERE?"  221 

without  consulting  my  wishes,  and  I  will  not  submit 
to  it.  I  do  not  love  the  Count  and  I  will  not  marry 
him." 

"  '^0,  no !  "  cried  Clarine.  "  She  shall  not  be  com- 
pelled to  marry  a  man  whom  she  does  not  love." 

The  interposition  of  Vivienne's  ally  raised  Pascal's 
latent  anger  to  a  high  pitch. 

"  Clarine,"  he  cried,  "  I  command  you  not  to  meddle 
with  matters  which  do  not  concern  you  I  I  act  in  her 
father's  stead,  and  it  is  my  right  and  my  duty  to  see 
her  properly  married  and  settled  in  life.  For  that 
reason,  I  have  decided  that  Count  Mont  d'Oro  shall  be 
a  guest,  but  I  will  not  allow  Lieutenant  Duquesne  to 
be  present." 

"  You  have  no  right,  Pascal,"  cried  Vivienne,  "  to 
take  such  a  course." 

She  raised  her  voice  and  cried,  with  all  the  decision 
of  her  impetuous  nature : 

"  I  say  that  Lieutenant  Duquesne  shall  come !  " 

"  And  I  say  he  shall  not !  "  thundered  Pascal. 

Old  Manassa,  awakened  by  the  loud  voices,  started  to 
his  feet. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Clarine  ?  "  he  cried.  "  What 
is  all  this  loud  talk  about  ? " 

"  Why,"  said  Clarine,  "  Vivienne  has  asked  Lieu- 
tenant Duquesne  to  come  to  her  birthday  party  and 
Pascal  says  that  he  shall  not." 

"  But  I  say  he  shall  come !  "  cried  Manassa,  and  he 
brought  down  his  heavy  staff  with  a  loud  whack  on  the 
floor. 

"  Don't  cry,  little  girl."  Hobbling  up  to  Pascal,  he 
shook  his  staff  in  his  face  and  exclaimed  with  more 
vehemence  than  before : 

"  I  say  he  shall  come !  Do  you  hear  me,  young  man  ? 
Do  you  hear  me,  sir  ?  " 

Pascal  saw  that  numerically  the  odds  were  against 
him,  for  they  stood  three  to  one.     He  knew  from  past 


222  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

experience  that,  if  goaded  on,  lie  would  grow  more  and 
more  intemperate  in  his  language.  He  would  reply  to 
him  with  dignity  and  keep  his  temper : 

"  You  forget  yourself,  Manassa.     I  am  master  here." 

"  You  master  here !  "  shouted  Manassa.  "  Then 
who  am  I  ?     Who  am  I,  sir  ?  " 

Clarine  interposed :  "  You  are  only  a  servant,  Ma- 
nassa." 

"  Am  I  a  servant,  Clarine  ?  That  boy  is  getting 
impudent,  extremely  impudent!  I  must  bring  him 
down  a  bit."  He  shook  his  staff  in  Pascal's  face,  again 
saying: 

"  I  say  he  shall  come.     Do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  There,  there,"  said  Clarine,  soothingly,  "  you  are 
too  old  to  get  angry.  A  man  a  hundred  years  old  ought 
to  know  better." 

"  Old,  hey !  What  if  I  am  a  hundred  years  old  ? 
Every  day  I  live  I  learn  something  new.  Who  is  this 
man  that  Vivienne  wants  to  come  to  the  party  ?  Is  he 
a  Corsican  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Clarine,  "  he  is  a  stranger — an  English- 
man— a  sailor." 

"  A  sailor !  They  are  good,  true  men.  Speaking  of 
sailors,  I  remember  that  soon  after  Manuel  Delia 
Coscia,  the  murderer  and  coward,  ran  away  from  Cor- 
sica, taking  his  son  with  him,  I  had  a  dream.  I  thought 
that  the  vessel  in  which  he  sailed,  while  on  its  way  to 
Marseilles,  was  becalmed,  and  as  it  drifted  there,  help- 
lessly, the  devil  came  up  out  of  the  sea  and,  grasping 
the  old  Delia  Coscia  and  the  young  one,  dragged  them 
down  with  him — and  I  have  liked  the  devil  a  little  ever 
since." 

Even  Pascal  could  not  help  smiling  at  this  exhibition 
of  devotion  on  the  part  of  an  old  servant,  but  he  did 
not  propose  to  be  further  humiliated. 

"  Manassa,"  he  said,  sternly,  "  we  have  had  enough 
of  this.     Go  to  your  own  room." 


"WHO  IS  MASTER  HERE?"  223 

The  old  man  grew  still  more  incensed.  "  You  talk 
as  though  jou  were  my  master,"  he  cried,  "  but  you  are 
not.  I  am  master  here.  How  dare  you  vex  your 
sister  ?     I  say  he  shall  come !  " 

Pascal's  anger  rose  again :  "  If  you  do  not  leave  the 
room,  I  will  put  you  out" 

"  How  can  you  speak  so,"  cried  Vivienne,  "  to  a 
weak,  foolish  old  man  ?  " 

Manassa's  temper  was  equal  to  his  age.  "  Hear  him 
order  me  about,  Clarine!  Is  he  my  master?  The 
little  good-for-nothing!  Say,  Clarine,  is  he  my 
master  ? " 

"  Oh,  Manassa,  how  forgetful  you  are  getting  to  be  I 
You  know  you  were  valet  to  Joseph,  who  had  a  son 
Conrad.     This  is  Conrad's  son." 

Pascal  was  weary  of  the  fruitless  discussion.  Why 
continue  it  ?  He  had  declared  his  intention  of  inviting 
Count  Mont  d'Oro  and  of  requesting  Lieutenant  Du- 
quesne  to  leave  the  house,  and  that  settled  the  matter. 
Without  replying  to  Manassa,  he  withdrew  and  pro- 
ceeded to  his  library. 

Manassa  went  on,  apparently  regardless  of  Pascal's 
departure : 

"  Yes,  I  was  Joseph's  valet.  I  remember  now,  and 
was  I  not  Lady  Julie's  valet  ?  " 

Clarine  laughed.  "  Why,  of  course  not  But  you 
used  sometimes  to  drive  her  out  when  the  coachman  was 
sick.     How  you  do  forget !  " 

"  Well,  whose  valet  am  I  now,  Clarine  ? " 

"  You  are  nobody's  valet" 

"  Is  Pascal  my  valet  ?  " 

"  ^o,  no,  Manassa !  There  now,  don't  ask  any  more 
questions." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  ask  any  more.  I  have  heard  all 
that  I  care  to.  I  am  going  into  the  garden  to  take  a 
walk.  Run  into  my  room,  Clarine,  and  get  me  my 
other  cane.     It  is  not  proper  that  the  master  of  the 


224  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

house  should  walk  out  with  an  old  stick  like  this,"  and 
he  threw  his  oaken  staff  upon  the  floor. 

"  Do  hear  the  man  talk,"  said  Clarine — "  as  if  I 
could  run." 

"  I  will  go,"  said  Vivienne.     "  Sit  still,  Clarine." 

When  Vivienne  had  gone,  Manassa  said :  "  How 
tall  she  is!  How  she  has  grown!  She  is  almost  as 
tall  as  Susette." 

"  Why,  Manassa,  I  haven't  heard  you  speak  Susette's 
name  in  ever  so  long,"  said  Clarine. 

Manassa  chuckled.  "  Do  you  remember,  Clarine, 
the  minuet  we  had  that  night  over  in  the  new  barn  at 
Prospero  Poiut?  My  stars,  how  Susette  did  throw 
those  black  eyes  at  me  that  evening!  I  really  do  be- 
lieve that  the  girl  loved  me,  Clarine.  Kow,  don't  you 
think  she  did  ?  " 

Clarine  placed  her  hand  upon  Manassa's  arm. 
"  Why,  to  be  sure,  else  why  did  she  marry  you  ?  For 
mercy's  sake !  You  can't  have  forgotten  that  Susette 
Cornelli  became  your  wife !  " 

Manassa  rubbed  his  forehead  meditatively.  "  So 
she  did !  Why,  really,  so  she  did.  Poor  Susette,  she's 
dead.     Have  I  got  a  wife  now,  Clarine  ?  " 

"  It  beats  all  how  you  do  forget.  'No,  no,  of  course 
you  have  no  wife,  and  are  not  likely  to  have  any.  You 
would  not  think  of  marrying  at  your  age,  I  hope." 

"  So  you  think  I  am  too  old  to  have  a  wife.  Well, 
I  will  have  a  wife  if  I  want  one.  Do  you  hear?  I 
will  have  one !  You  are  very  impudent  for  a  sei'vant. 
I  will  have  one  if  I  want  to !  You  are  nothing  but  an 
old  woman.  What  do  you  know  about  a  gentleman's 
affairs?  Wasn't  I  bodyguard  to  Conrad,  Pascal's 
father?" 

"  You  mean  Pascal's  grandfather,  Joseph.  How 
you  do  get  things  mixed  up!  " 

"  Here  is  your  cane,  Manassa,"  said  Vivienne,  softly. 
1     The  old  man  took  it,  forgetting  to  thank  her  for 


"WHO  IS  MASTER  HERE?"  225 

her  kindness,  and  stamped  across  the  floor  to  the  door 
which  led  to  the  garden.  With  his  hand  upon  the 
latch,  he  turned,  and  casting  a  spiteful  glance  upon 
Clarine,  ejaculated: 

"  I  will  have  a  wife  if  I  want  one !  " 

Then  he  went  out,  slamming  the  door  viciously. 

Pascal  made  his  way  to  the  library,  with  the  firm 
intention  of  sending  an  invitation  to  Count  Napier 
Mont  d'Oro  to  become  one  of  the  guests  at  the  birthday 
party.  He  had  hardly  completed  his  self-appointed 
task  when  Adolphe  entered  and  informed  him  that  a 
shepherd  boy  wished  to  see  him. 

"  Who  is  he?  "  asked  Pascal. 

"  I  never  saw  him  before,"  Adolphe  replied.  "  I 
think  he  has  a  letter  for  you." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  boy  entered.  "  I  have  a 
letter  for  Pascal  Batistelli,"  he  said. 

Pascal  reached  out  his  hand  to  receive  it. 

"  I  was  to  put  it  into  the  hands  of  Pascal  Batistelli. 
Are  you  the  right  man  ? " 

"  That  is  my  name,"  said  Pascal. 

The  boy  handed  him  the  letter  and  then  retreated 
slowly  towards  the  door.  Pascal  threw  him  a  small 
coin,  which  the  boy  deftly  caught,  and  then  quickly 
withdrew.     Pascal  broke  the  seal  and  read : 

"  I  cannot  give  you  my  real  name  in  this  note,  for 
reasons  which  you  will  understand.  I  have  found  the 
man  you  seek.  This  is  all  I  can  tell  you  until  some 
arrangements  are  made  in  relation  to  the  reward  offered. 
I  am  playing  false  to  a  friend  in  order  to  serve  you — ■ 
a  friend  who  will  fight  for  Vandemar  to  the  death. ^  I 
am  obliged  to  act,  therefore,  with  the  utmost  caution. 
I  will  meet  you  to-morrow  night  at  twelve,  precisely,  in 
the  maple  grove  behind  the  castle." 

"  I  understand,"  said  Pascal,  as  he  laid  down  the 
letter.     "  This  must  come  from  the  man  who  called 


226  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

himself  Paoli,  and  who  said  that  he  helonged  to  Cro- 
millian's  band.  To  serve  me  he  must  prove  false  to  a 
friend.  That  friend,  I  suppose,  is  Cromillian,  and, 
reading  between  the  lines,  I  infer  that  Cromillian  is  a 
friend  of  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia.  So  be  it.  The 
Batistellis  have  friends,  also,  and  we  shall  soon  learn 
which  is  the  stronger  party." 

At  that  moment  Julien  entered  the  room. 

"  Read  that,  Julien,"  said  Pascal,  as  he  handed  him 
the  letter. 

Julien  grasped  it,  and  seating  himself  near  his 
brother,  read  it  aloud,  Pascal  several  times  cautioning 
him  to  lower  his  voice.  When  Julien  finished  reading 
he  jumped  to  his  feet  and  exclaimed  excitedly : 

"  At  last!  At  last ! !  The  hour  of  vengeance  is  near ! 
If  we  find  this  man  Vandemar,  it  should  not  take  us 
long  to  avenge  the  murder  of  our  father;  then  our 
sister  will  never  again  be  able  to  reproach  us  with  cow- 
ardice or  wilful  delay." 

"  Be  not  over-confident,  Julien.  You  know  how  san- 
guine we  were  when  we  sent  Alberto  Cordoni  to  Eng- 
land in  search  of  some  trace  of  Manuel  Delia  Coscia, 
and  you  know  what  a  large  sum  that  effort  cost  us,  and 
all  for  nothing.  We  were  duped  by  Cordoni !  This 
may  be  nothing  but  a  plot  to  capture  the  reward.  We 
must  be  on  our  guard !  " 

"  But  you  will  meet  this  man  ?  "  queried  Julien. 

"  Certainly,"  said  his  brother,  "  and  you  shall  go 
with  me.  If  he  does  what  he  says  he  can,  I  shall  have 
to  pay  him  a  hundred  louis  d'or,  but  that  is  little  for 
so  much." 

Pascal  changed  the  subject  abruptly :  "  Julien,  I  have 
a  favour  to  ask  of  you.  Will  you  deliver  this  letter 
into  the  hands  of  Count  Mont  d'Oro  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course,"  said  Julien,  taking  up  the  letter. 
"  But  I  hope  you  have  not  invited  him  to  the  party. 
yivienne  told  me  that  she  had  not  sent  him  an  invita- 


"WHO  IS  MASTER  HERE?"  227 

tioiL  She  doesn't  like  him,  and  if  he  comes  she  will  be 
unhappy." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  advice,"  said  Pascal,  coldly. 
"  I  never  afflict  her  willingly,  Julien,  but  brothers  or 
sisters  who  do  not,  by  their  virtuous  lives  and  firm 
counsels,  support  the  customs  and  dignity  of  their  an- 
cestors do  not  deserve  to  bear  their  name.  She  is 
younger  than  I ;  it  is  my  right  to  command  and  hers  to 
obey." 

As  Julien  walked  through  the  garden  on  his  way  to 
Mont  d'Oro  Castle,  he  said  to  himself: 

"  Pascal  hit  Vivienne  and  me  with  one  stone.     '  A 

brother  who  does  not  by  his  virtuous  life '     That 

wa^  meant  for  me.  The  rest  was  for  Vivienne.  That 
brother  of  mine  is  a  shrewd  man,  very." 

Manassa's  colloquy  with  Pascal  had  left  him  in  a 
very  excited  condition  mentally.  After  uttering  his 
spiteful  declaration  and  slamming  the  door,  he  went 
into  the  garden  prepared  to  be  at  war  with  all  mankind. 
It  so  chanced  that  the  first  person  with  whom  he  came 
in  contact  was  Terence,  the  head  gardener. 

Terence  Devlin  held  the  position  of  head  gardener 
at  Batistelli  Castle.  He  had  been  guilty  of  an  infrac- 
tion of  a  law  made  by  Englishmen  for  the  government 
of  Irishmen,  and  had  left  Ireland — not  for  his  country's 
good,  but  for  his  own  personal  safety.  He  had  made 
his  way  to  France,  but  soon  found  that  British  spies 
were  on  his  track,  and  he  chose  Corsica  as  a  country 
not  likely  to  be  very  thickly  populated  with  British 
emissaries. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  sir  ?  "  yelled  Manassa,  as  he 
bent  over  the  Irishman,  who  was  upon  his  knees,  trim- 
ming a  garden  border. 

"  Did  yez  spake  to  me,  sor  ?  "  asked  Terence,  look- 
ing up. 

"  Of  course  I  did.     I  wished  to  tell  you  that  I  am 


228  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

greatly  displeased  with  your  management  of  the  grass- 
plots.  Instead  of  pulling  up  the  weeds  one  by  one,  as 
you  should  do,  you  let  them  grow,  and  they  are  taking 
deeper  root  every  day.  Why  do  you  hire  yourself  out 
as  a  gardener  without  understanding  your  business  ?  " 

"  Business,  is  it  ?  And  didn't  I  take  the  full  charge 
of  the  parks  and  gardens  of  his  Lordship,  the  Earl  of 
Bamford,  and  her  Ladyship,  Countess  Stannerly's 
gardens  ?  I^o  better  gardener,  sor,  thin  mesilf 
iver  handled  a  spade,  sure.  This  blatherin'  country, 
sor,  was  born  in  wades,  reared  in  wades,  and,  God 
willin',  it  will  die  in  wades  and  be  buried  in  wades. 
And  is  it  mesilf  that  '11  pick  thim  out  wan  by  wan? 
Whin  Terry  Devlin  gets  upon  his  knays  to  do  the  loikes 
o'  that,  sor,  you  may  put  him  down  as  a  brainless 
jackass,  widout  any  sinse  at  all,  at  all." 

"  As  I  was  saying  when  you  had  the  impudence  to 
interrupt  me,  there  are  far  more  weeds  than  grass  in 
those  plots — a  most  heathenish  and  unsightly  spectacle. 
What  did  I  hire  you  for,  if  not  to  do  your  work,  and 
do  it  in  strict  accordance  with  my  instructions?  You 
forget  yourself,  sir !  " 

"  I  admit,  sor,  that  the  wades  have  got  the  best  of  the 
grass,  and  divil  a  doubt  that  they'll  kape  it,  too.  They 
niver  was  known  to  give  in  if  they  have  a  show  of  a 
chance.  They  are  just  like  your  counthrymen,  sor.  If 
a  poor  divil  is  cross-eyed,  they  kill  him,  and  if  he  is 
not,  they  kill  him  all  the  same,  sor.  An'  I  take  the 
liberty  to  tell  ye,  sor,  that  I  resave  my  orders  from  the 
masther,  Mr.  Pashcal  Batistelli,  and  no  wan  else.  Do 
ye  moind  that,  now  ?  " 

"  The  master !  "  exclaimed  Manassa.  "  Pascal,  the 
master!  What  folly!  What  do  you  suppose  the  lad 
can  know  about  it?  Why,  that  boy  knows  no  more 
about  gardening  than  a  child  unborn." 

"  But  he  is  masther  of  the  Castle,  all  the  same,  sor," 
said  Terence,  decidedly,  "  and  I  shall  obey  nobody  else." 


"WHO  IS  MASTER  HERE?"  229 

Manassa  was  thunderstruck,  but  he  managed  to 
ejaculate : 

"  Who  is  master  here  ?     Who  am  I,  sir  ?  " 

Terence  looked  up,  and  with  a  slight  twinkle  in  his 
eye,  said : 

"  Mathoosaler's  grandfather,  I  belave,  sor !  " 

Manassa  struck  his  cane  upon  the  ground  and  cried, 
angrily :  "  You  are  an  impudent  puppy  and  black- 
guard. How  dare  you  address  me  in  that  audacious 
manner?  I'm  not  master,  eh?  You  won't  obey  me, 
eh?  I  say  you  shall  weed  the  grass-plots!  We'll  see 
whether  you  will  obey  or  not.  Clarine !  Clarine !  1 
Where's  the  jade  gone  ?  Gadding  about,  I  suppose,  as 
Usual.  I  say  you  shall  weed  the  grass-plots  I  Now  go, 
sir,  and  send  Pascal  to  me.  We'll  see  whether  you  will 
obey  me !  " 

Terence,  who  had  remained  upon  his  knees  during 
this  battle  of  words,  now  rose  to  his  feet  and  started  off 
as  though  he  intended  to  summon  Pascal  Batistelli: 
but,  instead  of  doing  so,  when  he  was  out  of  sight  of  his 
recent  antagonist,  he  entered  the  arbour  and  sat  down, 
filled  and  lighted  his  pipe,  and  smoked  contentedly. 
As  he  did  so,  he  soliloquised : 

"  A  foine,  healthy  counthry  this  is  to  allow  a  man  to 
live  af ther  he's  lost  his  wits  intoirely.  Faith,  I  belave 
he  was  a  captain  of  the  big  craft  at  the  toime  of  the 
flood!" 

Manassa  walked  on  through  the  garden  paths,  striking 
now  and  then  with  his  cane  at  a  flaunting  weed,  but  his 
mind  did  not  run  in  one  channel  very  long  and  his 
thoughts  soon  reverted  to  the  coming  birthday  party. 

"  I  shall  be  very  busy,"  he  thought,  "  until  this  party 
is  over.  What  could  they  do  without  me?  I  am  the 
only  one  who  knows  how  things  used  to  be  done  and  how 
they  ought  to  be  done  now.  I  have  always  been  used 
to  lords  and  ladies.  People  have  no  manners  at  the 
present  day;  even  our  children,  although  of  baronial 


230  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

descent,  have  but  little  idea  of  true  gentility.  Pascal 
and  Julien  appear  every  day  without  their  regalia, 
but  I  insist  upon  their  wearing  the  badge — the  red 
rosette — when  in  full  evening  dress.  The  degeneracy  of 
the  present  age  is  truly  most  shocking.  Why,  you 
would  hardly  believe  they  have  not  even  the  old 
coat  of  arms  upon  their  carriage,  and  no  outriders. 
Even  the  footman  is  dressed  like  a  circus  clown,  and 
tlie  coachman  looks  like  an  aide-de-camp.  Shocking! 
Shocking !  !  If  only  the  barony  had  descended  to  me. 
I  wonder  if  it  did  descend  to  me." 

Tired  out  mentally  by  his  exciting  controversies,  and 
physically  fatigued  by  his  long  walk,  the  old  man  sank 
upon  a  moss-covered  stone  which  lay  at  the  foot  of  a 
large  tree,  whose  wide-spreading  branches  gave  a  grate- 
ful shade.  He  leaned  against  the  old,  worm-eaten, 
gnarled  trunk,  and  was  soon  fast  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A  BIETHDAY  PAETT. 

On  the  anniversary  of  her  birthday,  Vivienne  re- 
ceived many  congratulatory  letters,  and  many  visits 
from  personal  friends  who  could  not  be  present  to  enjoy 
the  festivities  in  the  evening.  From  nearly  all  of  the 
writers  or  callers  she  received  some  visible  tokens  of 
love  or  esteem.  Vivienne  was  delighted  with  these 
evidences  of  regard,  but  looked  forward  with  intense 
interest  to  the  hour  when  the  message  from  her  dead 
father  was  to  be  placed  in  her  hands. 

Clarine  had  told  her  that  she  was  bom  at  six  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  and,  as  she  would  not  be  eighteen 
years  old  until  that  hour  arrived,  she  would  not  give 
her  the  paper  until  that  time.  Vivienne  coaxed, 
pleaded,  and  finally  remonstrated,  but  the  old  nurse  was 
inexorable. 

After  the  candles  were  lighted  in  the  rooms  which 
were  to  be  used  by  the  guests,  Clarine  and  Manassa 
made  a  tour  of  them.  Manassa  wished  to  remain 
through  the  evening,  to  be  sure  that  the  festivities  were 
carried  out  in  proper  form.     Clarine  laughed  and  said : 

"  Why,  you  foolish  old  man,  you  would  be  sound 
asleep  by  seven  o'clock,  and  if  I  stayed  here  to  look 
after  you,  I  should  fall  asleep,  too.  Wouldn't  it  be  a 
pretty  sight  for  the  other  guests  to  see  us  two  old  fogies 
sound  asleep  in  the  corner  of  the  room  ?  You  know  you 
snore  terribly." 

"  Xo,  I  don't  know  it,"  snapped  Manassa.  "  I  never 
heard  myself  snore  in  my  life,  and  never  expect  to." 

"  WfiU,"  said  Clarine,  "  Vivienne  is  coming  to  my 
231 


232  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

room,  for  I  have  something  to  give  her,  and  you  must 
go  to  your  own  room,  for,  much  as  we  usually  enjoy 
your  company,  to-night  we  do  not  care  for  it." 

When  Clarine  and  Vivienne  were  alone  together  in 
the  nurse's  room,  the  former  took  from  her  bosom  a 
sealed  packet  and  handed  it  to  the  young  girl. 

"  When  your  father  gave  it  to  me,  the  day  of  his 
death,  it  was  unsealed.  He  told  me  that  I  might  read 
it,  and  I  have  done  so  many  times.  Of  late,  I  have 
feared  that  some  prying  eye  might  discover  it,  so  I 
sealed  it.  My  next  fear  was  that  some  one  might  take 
it,  and  for  a  year  I  have  carried  it  with  me  while  awake 
and  have  placed  it  under  my  pillow  when  sleeping.  I 
have  kept  the  vow  that  I  made  to  your  dead  father. 
I^ow  I  can  die  in  peace,  when  Heaven  wills." 

"  Shall  I  read  it  now  ? "  asked  Vivienne. 

"  Yes,  dear,  for  I  may  be  able  to  assist  you  if  you  do 
not  understand  it." 

Vivienne  ran  her  eyes  quickly  over  the  page.  The 
writing  was  in  a  large,  round  hand,  and  although  the 
paper  was  discoloured  and  the  ink  faded,  each  word  was 
easily  deciphered.  As  Vivienne  read,  the  old  nurse 
watched  her  attentively. 

"  Have  you  come  to  the  part  where  it  tells  how  to 
open  and  close  the  dungeon  door  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  cried  Vivienne.  "  What  wonderful  mechan- 
ism !  Who  could  have  invented  it  ?  Oh,  Clarine,  it 
makes  my  blood  run  cold  to  think  of  that  fearful  dun- 
geon shut  out  from  the  world  by  such  demoniac  inge- 
nuity." 

"  But  the  Hall  of  Mirrors  is  considered  the  most 
beautiful  room  in  the  castle,"  said  Clarine. 

"  And  so  it  is.  Julien  and  I  used  to  love  to  play 
there,  for  as  we  ran  about  the  room,  or  danced,  we  could 
see  ourselves  in  the  mirrors,  and  it  always  seemed  as 
though  we  had  many  visitors  who  were  joining  in  our 
games.     We   were   too   young  to   think   that  any   of 


A  BIRTHDAY  PARTY.  233 

those  mirrors  were  hinged,  and  that  when  opened 
they  would  disclose  a  dungeon  door  behind  them. 
Heaven  grant  that  I  may  never  have  cause  to  open 
that  door !  " 

"  ISFever,  unless  in  great  extremity  or  to  save  human 
life,"  said  Clarine,  solemnly.  "  Those  were  your 
father's  words  to  me,  and  I  have  never  forgotten  them. 
jS'ow,  darling,  you  must  forget  everything  that  will  call 
up  unpleasant  memories,  and  be  joyous  and  happy.  I 
will  go  with  you  to  your  room  and  help  you  put  on  that 
beautiful  dress  which  your  brother  Pascal  gave  you. 
There  will  be  pretty  girls  here  to-night,  but  none  will 
be  so  beautiful  as  my  little  Viva." 

What  the  old  nurse  had  said  was  surely  realised. 
There  is  no  woman  whose  natural  beauty  is  so  great  that 
it  cannot  be  enhanced  by  the  aid  of  art.  Poets  and 
painters  rave  over  peasant  girls  and  fisher  maidens,  and 
write  about  and  paint  them.  Near  the  close  of  the 
poem,  however,  the  poet  makes  a  lady  of  his  country  or 
seaside  heroine — clothes  her  in  costly  raiment  and  decks 
her  with  jewels.  In  poetry,  as  in  music,  there  must  be 
a  crescendo.  Again,  the  artist  may  marry  an  ideal  face 
and  form,  but  when  she  has  become  his,  he  selects  deli- 
cate tints  and  filmy  garments  with  which  to  clothe  her, 
and  his  artistic  sense  inevitably  leads  him  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  golden  or  raven-black  hair,  parted  in  the 
middle,  with  modest  simplicity,  should  be  replaced  by 
the  latest  coiffure. 

Beneath  the  dexterous  hands  of  Clarine,  who  had 
dressed  many  a  bride,  Vivienne  was  transformed,  and 
when  the  young  girl  looked  in  the  mirror  she  started 
back  in  honest  astonishment  at  the  sight  of  her  reflec- 
tion. 

"  Viva,"  cried  the  old  nurse,  "  you  are  perfect,  and 
if  I  were  Count  Mont  d'Oro  I  would  fall  down  and 
worship  you." 

"  If  you  were  Count  Mont  d'Oro,"  replied  Vivienne, 


234  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  I  would  allow  you,  but  I  shall  not  give  the  real  Count 
any  such  opportunity." 

"  Well,"  said  Clarine,  "  I  will  not  worship  you,  but 
I  will  give  you  my  blessing.  May  you  have  a  long  life, 
and  health,  happiness,  and  prosperity  be  ever  yours." 
She  kissed  the  young  girl  and  the  caress  was  returned 
in  manifold.  "  !Now  I  will  go  with  you  to  your  broth- 
ers," said  Clarine,  "  and  introduce  you,  for  I  am  sure  it 
will  be  necessary." 

"  ]^ot  until  I  have  seen  Manassa,"  cried  Vivienne, 
and  she  made  her  way  quickly  to  the  old  man's  room. 
He  sat  in  his  chair,  sound  asleep,  his  hands  resting  upon 
the  head  of  the  oaken  staff,  his  head  bowed  upon  them. 

Yivienne  touched  him  upon  the  shoulder.  He  slept 
lightly,  and  awoke  easily.  At  sight  of  the  vision  before 
him  he  started  to  his  feet,  rubbing  his  eyes. 

"  Beg  pardon,  Lady  Julie,"  he  exclaimed,  "  but  I 
did  not  hear  your  bell.     What  are  your  commands  ?  " 

*'  This  is  not  Lady  Julie,"  cried  Clarine ;  "  this  is  our 
own  Viva,  but  it  is  not  strange  that  you  do  not  know 
her.      She  has  come  for  your  blessing." 

Vivienne  sank  upon  her  knees  before  him.  The  old 
man  placed  his  trembling  hands  upon  her  head. 

"  May  you  be  as  happy  as  was  the  Lady  Julie — she 
was  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  Corsica,  and  I  was 
her  favourite  servant.  I  saved  her  life  one  day.  I 
came  near  losing  my  own,  but  I  would  have  given  it 
willingly.  My  dear,  you  are  a  Batistelli,  but  the  family 
has  fallen  from  its  high  estate.  The  shame  of  the 
Rimhecco  is  upon  it.  Be  true  to  your  name  and  to 
your  brothers  who  have  sworn  to  remove  the  stigma." 

The  old  man  fell  back  heavily  into  his  chair  and  cov- 
ered his  face  with  his  hands.  As  Vivienne  and  Clarine 
left  the  room  they  heard  him  say :  "  Rimhecco !  Rim- 
hecco!!" and  there  were  pathos,  bitterness,  and  anger 
commingled  in  his  voice. 

The  guests  began  to  assemble.     The  Batistelli  family 


A  BIRTHDAY  PARTY.  236 

had  l)een  one  of  the  oldest,  wealthiest,  and  most  in- 
fluential in  Corsica,  and  although  its  prestige  had 
waned,  it  had  not  wholly  departed.  Vivienne  had 
spread  her  invitations  far  and  wide,  and  the  acceptances 
indicated  that  the  gathering  would  include  representa- 
tives from  the  best  families  in  Ajaccio  and  the  surround- 
ing country. 

Among  tlie  first  to  arrive  was  the  Mayor  of  Ajaccio, 
accompanied  by  his  two  daughters,  Carlotta  and  Josefa. 
Count  Napier  Mont  d'Oro  escorted  his  mother,  the 
Countess,  and  Miss  Renville.  Admiral  Enright  was 
accompanied  by  his  daughter,  Helen.  Vivienne,  whose 
quick  eye  saw  every  guest  long  before  he  wa&  pre- 
sented to  her,  noticed  that  Lieutenant  Duquesne  was 
not  with  them.  The  thought  came  to  her  that  her 
brother  Pascal  had,  without  doubt,  told  the  young 
Englishman  that  his  presence  was  no  longer  desired, 
but  her  inward  anger  against  her  brother  was  far  less 
intense  than  against  Count  Mont  d'Oro,  whom  she 
looked  upon  as  the  real  cause  of  the  young  man's  pro- 
scription. Among  the  late  arrivals  was  Dr.  Valentino 
Procida,  who  was  the  proprietor  of  a  private  asylum 
for  the  insane  at  Salvanetra,  a  village  about  five  miles 
from  Alfieri.  The  company  grew  by  constant  acces- 
sions, until  it  became  both  large  and  brilliant,  com- 
pletely filling  the  spacious  drawing-room. 

Pascal  and  Julien,  attired  in  the  national  costume, 
over  which  they  wore  the  regalia  of  the  Batistelli 
family,  together  with  the  traditional  red  rosette  upon 
their  left  breasts,  acted  as  ushers  and  presented  the 
guests  to  Vivienne,  upon  whose  face  forced  smiles 
quickly  appeared,  immediately  followed  by  immistak- 
able  looks  of  disappointment. 

At  a  signal  from  Pascal  the  musicians  began  to  play, 
while  Julien  motioned  to  the  giiests  to  step  back,  thereby 
leaving  Vivienne  standing  alone  in  the  middle  of  the 
great  room. 


236  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Seven   young   and   pretty  girls,    also   wearing  the 

national  dress,  entered,  one  of  them  bearing  a  floral 

wreath  containing  eighteen  rose&,  which  she  placed  upon 

Vivienne's  head.     As  she  did  so,  the  musicians,  who 

were  pro\dded  with  bells,   rang  out  a  silvery  chime. 

The  girls  then  joined  hands,  formed  a  circle  about  Vivi- 

enne,  while  their  fresh  young  voices  sang  the  Birthday 

Song: 

"  Set  the  birthday  bells  a-ringing; 
To  our  queen  her  friends  are  bringing 
Freshest  flowers  of  every  hue, 
Dripping  with  the  evening  dew. 
All  advancing, 
We  are  dancing, 
Bringing  flowers  of  every  hue, 
Dripping  with  the  evening  dew. 
Hear  the  ringing  and  tlie  chiming 
Of  the  merry,  merry  bells. 
Eighteen  years  their  story  tells. 
How  within  the  heart  it  swells! 
All  advancing. 
We  are  dancing. 
To  the  ringing  of  the  bells, 
Merry,  merry  birthday  bells." 

At  the  close  of  the  song  they  let  go  of  each  other's 
hands  and  formed  in  line,  facing  Vivienne.  Seven 
young  men,  dressed  in  the  costume  of  peasants  of  the 
better  class,  next  entered,  and  took  positions  behind 
the  row  of  maidens.  Pascal  and  Julien  then  stepped 
forward  and  escorted  Vivienne  to  a  rustic  chair,  which 
was  covered  with  a  profusion  of  flowers  and  which  had 
been  reserved  for  her  use. 

Now  the  musicians  played  some  weird,  peculiar  dance 
music  and  the  fourteen  youths  and  maidens  took  part 
in  a  wild,  characteristic  Corsican  dance.  The  steps  and 
gestures  were  full  of  abandon,  and  although  the  staid 
Miss  Helen  Enright  was  not  absolutely  shocked,  when 
the  dance  was  over  she  had  the  impression  that  the  con- 
ventionalities of  society  were  not  kept  within  as  strict 
lines  in  Corsica  as  they  were  in  England. 

All  sailors  love  to  dance  and  to  see  others  dance. 


A  BIRTHDAY  PARTY.  237 

Admiral  Enright  was  delighted.     In  the  exuberance  of 
his  feelings,  he  grasped  Pascal's  hand  and  ejaculated : 

"  Bless  my  soul !  A  most  re-mark-a-ble  perform- 
ance !  "  He  turned  to  his  daughter — "  Helen,  would 
it  not  be  a  grand  idea  to  introduce  so  pleasant  a  custom 
into  English  society  ?  " 

Miss  Enright  was  an  adept  in  concealing  her  real 
thoughts — the  ability  to  do  so  is  a  defensive  armour 
which  education  only  can  supply — and  she  responded : 

"  I  fear  we  could  never  acquire  the  habit  of  doing  it 
so  gracefully,  papa." 

Pascal  bowed  and  replied :  "I  am  pleased  to  know 
that  you  are  not  bored.  We  are  not,  as  a  general  thing, 
fortunate  in  pleasing  strangers  with  our  manner  of  do- 
ing things." 

Helen  profited  once  more  by  her  ability  to  conceal 
her  displeasure  and  express  the  contrary: 

"  I  am  sure  we  have  visited  no  place  since  we  have 
left  home  that  has  afforded  us  so  much  pleasure  as  Cor- 
sica." 

To  this  commendatory  remark,  the  Admiral  added: 
"  We  shall  carry  with  us  many  happy  recollections  of 
this  island,  I  assure  you.  That  dance  was  really  re- 
mark-a-ble  ;  was  it  not,  Helen  ?  " 

She  whispered  in  her  father's  ear :  "  Yes,  papa,  I 
really  think  it  was." 

Adolphe,  clothed  in  the  livery  of  the  Batistellis,  an- 
nounced that  the  birthday  supper  was  served. 

Events  proved  that  in  Corsica,  as  in  other  countries, 
this  announcement  was  the  signal  for  the  gentleman 
guests  to  choose  partners  to  accompany  them  to  the 
supper  room.  Count  Mont  d'Oro  offered  his  arm  to 
Vivienne,  who  drew  back  with  a  marked  gesture  of 
refusal.  Pascal  saw  it  and,  in  a  low  voice,  commanded 
her  to  accept  the  courtesy  and  not  cause  a  scandal. 
They,  accordingly,  took  their  positions  at  the  head  of 
the  line,  being  followed  by  Pascal  and  Miss  Renville, 


238  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Julien  and  Miss  Enright,  while  the  Admiral  escorted 
the  Countess  Mont  d'Oro.  The  musicians  struck  up  a 
march  and  the  procession  made  a  tour  of  the  great 
room.  As  it  was  about  to  enter  the  corridor,  Lieutenant 
Duquesne  suddenly  made  his  appearance  in  the  full 
dress  uniform  of  a  naval  lieutenant  in  Her  Britannic 
Majesty's  service. 

Vivienne  turned  impulsively  towards  him,  releasing 
her  hold  upon  the  Count's  arm,  and  the  procession, 
necessarily,  came  to  a  standstill. 

Lieutenant  Duquesne  apologised  to  Vivienne  for  his 
late  arrival,  explaining  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  go 
to  the  ship  to  make  his  preparations. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  are  in  time  for  supper,"  ex- 
claimed Vivienne. 

He  bent  low  and  said  to  her  in  an  undertone :  "  I 
shall  not  enjoy  it  unless  in  your  company." 

"  But  I  am  engaged,"  and  Vivienne  looked  towards 
the  Count,  who  stood  with  face  averted. 

"  You  told  me  you  were  not." 

A  hot  flush  mantled  Vivienne's  cheek — she  was  not 
an  adept  in  English  humour  or  wit. 

"  You  hesitate,  but  when  we  were  in  the  forest  that 
night  you  said  that  you  would  not  forget  me." 

"  Neither  will  I,"  she  cried,  with  sudden  determina- 
tion. Before  the  Count  could  recover  from  his  aston- 
ishment sufficiently  to  interpose,  she  had  taken  Victor's 
arm  and  they  proceeded  to  the  supper  room,  closely 
followed  by  the  company,  that  regarded  further  delay 
as  unnecessary. 

The  Coimt  was  filled  with  rage  at  the  insult  which 
he  had  received,  and  was  deeply  mortified  because  his 
discomfiture  had  been  witnessed  by  so  many.  He 
looked  for  some  avenue  of  escape  from  further  observa- 
tion. Espying  a  door  partly  open,  he  quickly  entered 
the  room  and  found  himself  in  the  ante-chamber  of  the 
great    drawing-room — from    which    the    singers    and 


A  BIRTHDAY  PARTY.  239 

dancers  had  emerged.  Under  the  circumstances,  he 
could  not  go  to  the  supper  room,  nor  would  his  pride 
allow  him  to  leave  the  house  until  he  had  received  an 
apology  and  reparation  for  the  insult. 

He  finally  decided  to  call  a  servant  and  have  him 
Bummon  Pascal  and  Julien.  They  soon  appeared. 
The  Count  was  resourceful  and  able  to  curb  his  passion 
,  when  it  was  for  his  interest  to  do  so.  He  began  speak- 
ing in  a  severely  dignified  manner: 

"  Monsieur  Pascal  Batistelli,  your  sister  has  grossly 
insulted  me  in  your  presence  and  that  of  your  guests. 
I  demand  an  apology  or  reparation.  I  think  I  deserve 
both." 

"  My  dear  Count,"  said  Pascal,  "  I  deeply  regret  this 
unfortunate  occurrence.  My  sister  is  self-willed,  but 
she  knows  that  she  must  ultimately  do  as  I  wish.  I 
cannot  humiliate  her  before  her  guests  to-night.  You 
must  allow  me  to  apologise  for  her  rudeness,  and  I 
promise,  as  reparation,  that  she  shall  become  your  wife 
before  a  month  has  passed,  and  the  same  guests  who  are 
here  to-night  shall  be  bidden  to  witness  the  marriage 
ceremony." 

"  I  accept  your  pledge,"  said  the  Count,  "  because  I 
love  your  sister.  Were  it  not  so,  I  should  demand  sat- 
isfaction from  you,  her  elder  brother." 

"  I  acknowledge  your  right  to  do  so,"  said  Pascal. 
"  If  I  fulfil  my  pledge,  will  you  be  satisfied  ?  " 

"  I  wiU  exact  but  one  simple  condition,"  the  Count 
answered. 

"And  that  is?"  Pascal  queried,  while  Julien 
clutched  nervously  at  his  sword-hilt. 

"  A  simple  request  and  one  easily  granted,"  said  the 
Count.  "It  is  that  Lieutenant  Duquesne  shall  leave 
this  house  at  once." 

Julien  looked  at  his  watch.  "  It  is  beyond  the  hour, 
Pascal.     If  we  do  not  go  at  once  we  shall  be  too  late." 

"And  you  would  postpone  complying  with  my  re- 


240  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

quest  until  he  has  eaten  his  supper  and  can  retire  grace- 
fully ?  "  asked  the  Count,  sarcastically. 

"  Let  me  explain,"  cried  Pascal.  "  You  have,  no 
doubt,  heard  the  rumour  that  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia  is 
in  Corsica.  You  know  what  that  means  to  us — and  to 
him !  Julien  and  I  have  an  engagement  to  meet  a  man 
in  the  maple  grove  who  has  given  us  his  word  of  honour 
that  he  can  tell  us  where  to  find  this  man.  Come  with 
us.  Count.  We  are  well  armed — we  have  our  swords — 
and  need  fear  no  danger  from  a  single  man,  who  is, 
probably,  unarmed." 

The  Count's  first  impulse  was  to  speak  and  disclose 
what  he  had  learned  through  the  strategy  of  Villefort. 
Then  he  reflected  that  if  the  death  of  his  enemy  could 
be  compassed  without  his  complicity  being  apparent, 
his  marriage  to  Vivienne  might  not,  after  all,  be  im- 
possible. 

On  the  way  to  the  maple  grove,  Pascal  told  the  Count 
how  an  old  man  had  called  upon  him  and  had  disclosed 
his  identity,  under  a  pledge  of  secrecy,  and  declared 
that  he  could  point  out  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia. 

"  I  agreed  to  give  him  one  hundred  louis  d'or,"  said 
Pascal,  "  if  his  information  proved  to  be  correct.  Some 
time  passed,  and  I  heard  nothing  from  him.  Then 
he  sent  a  letter  by  a  messenger,  who,  in  turn,  intrusted 
it  to  a  shepherd  boy  to  deliver  to  me.  I  saw  the  mes- 
senger and  learned  that  the  possessor  of  the  secret 
wished  to  know  if  the  money  would  surely  be  paid.  I 
have  it  with  me,  and  if  the  man  puts  me  on  the  track  of 
Vandemar,  he  shall  have  the  promised  reward." 

"  I  will  pay  half  of  it,"  said  the  Count,  generously, 
but  unguardedly. 

They  were  now  nearing  the  maple  grove.  The 
Count's  offer  had  not  been  heard  by  Pascal,  but  it  did 
not  escape  Julien's  quick  ear.  The  three  men,  with 
swords  drawn,  entered  the  grove. 

"  I  am  here,"  said  Pascal,  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 


A  BIRTHDAY  PARTY.  241 

The  same  old  man  who  had  visited  him  at  the  castle 
emerged  from  a  clump  of  bushes.  He  carried  a  small 
lantern,  which  he  held  up  so  that  its  rays  fell  on  Pascal's 
face  and  those  of  his  companions.  The  man  started 
back  with  a  cry  of  dismay. 

"  We  are  friends,"  said  Pascal.  "  Is  that  you, 
Paoli?" 

"  Hush !  "  growled  the  man.  "  Mention  no  names 
— the  trees  have  ears.     Have  you  brought  the  money  ?  " 

"  I  have  it  with  me,"  said  Pascal. 

"  Shall  I  come  to  the  house  and  point  him  out,  or 
shall  I  tell  you  how  to  identify  him  ?  "  asked  the  man. 

"  Give  us  the  name  he  is  known  by — that  will  be 
sufficient,"  said  Pascal. 

"  He  is  called "  began  the  man. 

Before  he  could  speak  the  name  there  came  a  flash 
and  a  report  from  behind  a  clump  of  bushes  not  more 
than  twenty  feet  away,  and  the  man  fell  headlong  to 
the  ground,  dead ! 

The  three  men  advanced  boldly  towards  the  place 
from  which  the  shot  had  come.  They  were  met  by  a 
fnsilade,  the  bullets,  fortunately,  perhaps  intentionally, 
going  over  their  heads. 

"  It  is  too  hot  for  us  here,"  said  Pascal.  "  Let  us 
go  back  to  the  house  at  once,  where  your  request,  my 
dear  Count,  shall  be  complied  with." 

Count  Napier  Mont  d'Oro  was  the  only  one  who 
knew  that  Victor  Duquesne  and  Vandemar  DeUa  Coscia 
were  one  and  the  same  person. 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  said  the  Count  to  himself, 
"  what  a  sweet  revenge  I  shall  have  when  I  disclose  my 
secret  to  your  guests." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

TBEACHEEY. 

Thomas  Glynne  and  Jack  De  Viim©  found  life  in 
the  bandits'  camp  very  irksome.  They  were  not  ex- 
posed to  physical  danger,  for  they  were  not  called  upon 
to  accompany  any  of  the  bands  which  left  camp  on 
what  they  supposed  to  be  predatory  excursions. 

Neither  had  forgotten  the  object  of  his  visit  to  Cor- 
sica. Each  wished  to  continue  the  search  for  Bertha 
Renville  and  be  the  first  one  to  meet  her;  but  they 
knew  they  were  closely  watched,  and  that  any  at- 
tempt to  leave  camp  without  Cromillian's  consent 
would  be  resisted  by  force,  and  their  careers  cut  short, 
perhaps,  by  rifle-bullets.  So  they  were  forced,  against 
their  wills,  to  remain  "  lookers-on  in  Vienna,"  and  bide 
their  time.  The  life  they  led  was  as  enervating  as  it 
would  have  been  in  prison.  Each  asked  for  something 
to  do  to  pass  away  the  time,  and  it  was  arranged  that 
Jack  should  keep  the  camp  supplied  with  fresh  water, 
while  Glynne  felled  trees  and  cut  the  firewood. 

They  were  kept  in  a  state  of  nervous  excitement,  for 
they  expected  any  day  that  they  might  be  called  before 
Cromillian  to  learn  the  decision  to  which  he  had  come 
after  visiting  Bertha.  Each  naturally  felt  that  his 
claim  was  the  stronger  and  would  be  respected.  Glynne 
considered  that  his  rights  as  guardian  were  paramount, 
while  Jack  thought,  if  Bertha  acknowledged  her  love  for 
him,  as  he  felt  sure  she  would,  that  the  verdict  would  be 
in  his  favour. 

After  leaving  Barbera's  cabaret,  Villefort  had  started 

Z4Si 


TREACHERY.  243 

off  with  the  fixed  intention  of  finding  Cromillian  and 
divulging  Count  Mont  d'Oro's  plot  against  Vandemar 
Delia  Coscia,  for  he  felt  sure  that  his  discovery  of  the 
dual  identity  of  Victor  Duquesne  would  be  fully  sub- 
stantiated. 

Villefort  did  not  know  where  to  find  Cromillian. 
He  had  heard  rumours  of  the  location  of  the  bandits' 
camp — but  camps  can  be  easily  changed  from  one  place 
to  another.  They  are  like  song-birds,  or  one's  good  luck 
— here  to-day  and  gone  to-morrow. 

He  had  heard  that  "  All  roads  lead  to  Rome,"  and  it 
was  equally  true  that  all  the  roads  in  Corsica,  within 
twenty  miles,  at  least,  led  to  Ajaccio.  He  knew  that 
Cromillian's  emissaries  came  to  town,  usually  disguised, 
and  to  do  this  they  must  follow  the  roads,  or  one  of 
them. 

By  chance,  for  fortune  favours  wicked  people  as  often 
as  it  does  good  ones,  Villefort  took  the  most  direct  road 
to  Cromillian's  camp.  After  a  long  and  weary  tramp, 
he  came  to  a  small  cottage,  where  he  determined  to  ask 
for  food  and  an  opportunity  to  rest.  As  he  neared  the 
house,  a  girl  about  ten  years  of  age  opened  the  door  and 
started  to  run  down  the  path  which  led  to  the  roadway, 
but,  seeing  Villefort,  she  stopped  suddenly. 

"  Who  lives  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  My  mother,"  said  Lulie,  for  it  was  she. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  remarked  Villefort,  "  but  what 
is  your  father's  name  ?  " 

"  My  father  is  dead ;  my  mother  is  called  the  Widow 
mfilet." 

Villefort  started.  He  had  heard  that  name  before 
— ^but  in  what  connection  ?  He  stood  in  deep  thought, 
Lulie  regarding  him  attentively,  wondering,  child- 
like, what  the  object  of  his  visit  could  be,  for  few 
strangers  were  seen  in  that  out-of-the-way  locality.  As 
the  result  of  his  deliberation,  Villefort  gave  up  for  a 
time,  at  least,  his  intention  of  asking  for  food,  and  said; 


244  THE  CORSICAN  LO^^ERS. 

"  I  want  to  find  a  man  named  Cromillian.  Do  you 
know  him  ?  " 

"  What— Uncle  Cromillian?  "  asked  the  child.  "  He 
is  the  best  friend  we  have — ^mother  and  I." 

"  Where  can  I  find  him  ?  "  persisted  Villefort. 

"  Are  you  alone  ?  "  queried  Lulie. 

Villefort  nodded. 

"  I  see  you  have  no  gun.  Is  there  a  pistol  or  a  sti- 
letto inside  your  jacket  ?  " 

Villefort  threw  it  open.  "  I  am  unarmed,"  he  said. 
"  Come  and  see  if  I  do  not  speak  the  truth." 

Lulie  approached,  and  her  bright  eyes  searched  him 
from  head  to  foot. 

"  Clasp  your  hands  behind  you,"  said  she.  "  I  will 
take  your  arm  and  lead  you  to  him.  But  if  you  unclasp 
your  hands,  I  shall  give  the  danger  signal  and  Uncle 
Cromillian  will  shoot  you  dead  with  his  rifle." 

The  fact  was  that  Cromillian  went  often  to  the 
Widow  Xafilet's  house.  Although  he  usually  lived  upon 
it  for  weeks  at  a  time,  he  did  not  relish  the  coarse  food 
rudely  prepared  by  his  men,  and  for  that  reason  had 
arranged  with  the  W^idow  Nafilet  to  cook  and  send  his 
meals  to  him  when  his  camp  was  within  a  reasonable 
distance,  Lulie  being  the  messenger.  Cromillian  had 
accounts  to  keep  and  letters  to  write.  In  camp,  the 
facilities  for  such  work  were  very  poor,  and  he  found 
that  a  snug  room  and  large  table,  a  high-backed  chair 
and  a  bright  wood  fire  were  much  better  suited  to  his 
wants  and  comfort  than  the  arbour  in  the  woods  which 
he  was  obliged  to  use  in  an  emergency. 

Lulie  led  Villefort  into  the  kitchen,  where  her 
mother  was  at  work. 

"  Mother,"  she  cried,  "  keep  your  eye  on  this  man ! 
If  he  unclasps  his  hands,  give  the  signal  and  Uncle 
Cromillian  will  come  out  with  his  rifle." 

Lulie  entered  an  adjoining  room,  closing  the  door 
quickly.     The  widow  Nafilet  kept  on  with  her  work, 


TREACHERY.  246 

but  one  eye  or  the  other  was  fastened  on  Villefort  who, 
apparently  at  his  ease,  was  considering  the  best  manner 
in  which  to  open  his  conversation  with  the  redoubtable 
bandit,  at  the  mere  mention  of  whose  name  citizens  of 
Ajaccio  and  the  surrounding  country  trembled  with  an 
inexplicable  fear.  He  had  not  harmed  them  as  yet, 
but  they  did  not  know  what  he  might  do  if  his  demands 
were  not  promptly  satisfied. 

Lulie  opened  the  door  and  beckoned  to  Villefort. 
"  Come  in — he  will  see  you,"  she  said. 

Cromillian  was  seated  at  the  table,  which  was  covered 
with  documents  and  letters,  when  Villefort  entered. 

"  And  what  does  Monsieur  Villefort  wish  from  me  ?  " 
were  Cromillian's  first  words. 

"  You  know  me,  then  ?  "  asked  Villefort. 

"  Yes,  and  but  little  to  your  credit  You  are  the 
hired  minion  of  young  Count  Mont  d'Oro,  who  is  a 
spendthrift  and  a  profligate.  I  have  an  open  account, 
which  I  shall  settle  with  him  soon." 

"  Perhaps  I  can  aid  you  to  get  what  is  due  you," 
said  Villefort,  for  he  thought  that  he  must  improve  his 
standing  with  the  bandit  as  soon  as  possible. 

"  Perhaps  you  can,"  cried  Cromillian,  "  but  I  shall 
pay  you  nothing  if  you  do." 

"  I  do  not  ask  for  any  reward." 

"  I  understand,"  said  Cromillian.  "  You  two  ras- 
cals have  fallen  out.  He  has  wronged  you,  or  you  think 
he  has,  and  you  have  come  to  me  to  betray  him — in 
other  words,  you  wish  to  get  even  with  him  through  my 
kind  offices," 

Villefort  felt  that  the  situation  was  critical.  He 
must  come  at  once  to  the  point. 

"  You  know,  of  course,  that  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia 
is  in  Corsica." 

In  spite  of  his  great  power  of  self-command,  Cro- 
millian gave  an  involuntary  start  Villefort  perceived 
his  advantage  and  went  on: 


246  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  You  know,  of  course,  that  Count  Mont  d'Oro 
fought  a  duel  with  a  Lieutenant  Duquesne,  who  is 
attached  to  the  British  frigate  now  at  Ajaccio." 

Cromillian  nodded.  Villefort  nerved  himself  for 
the  coming  ordeal. 

"  Count  Mont  d'Oro  put  me  on  the  track  of  the 
young  Englishman  and  I  have  discovered  that  he  is  no 
Englishman  at  all,  but  that  he  is  a  Corsican,  and  his 
right  name  is  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia!  " 

Cromillian's  face  was  unmoved.  "  Does  the  Count 
know  this  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Villefort ;  "  he  hired  me  to  follow  the 
man  and,  when  he  paid  me,  he  cheated  me  out  of  a  louis 
d'or  which  I  had  to  give  to  Barbera  for  writing  a 
letter." 

"  But  what  matters  all  this  to  me  ?  "  asked  Cro- 
millian. 

Villefore  reflected  before  answering.  Was  Cro- 
millian really  ignorant,  or  was  he  only  trying  to  draw 
him  out  before  saying  anything  himself  ?  Then  Ville- 
fort, as  many  other  rascals  have  done  under  similar 
circumstances,  having  told  what  he  felt  to  be  the  truth, 
decided  to  rely  in  future  upon  invention.  Cromillian 
had  turned  his  face  away  and  was  gazing  intently  at  the 
blazing  wood  fire  in  the  fireplace. 

"  I  suppose  you  know,"  Villefort  went  on,  and  he 
watched  Cromillian  closely  to  see  the  effect  of  his  words, 
"  that  Manuel  Delia  Coscia  is  also  in  Corsica  under  an 
assumed  name." 

Cromillian  turned  his  head  and  looked  Villefort 
squarely  in  the  face. 

"  Under  what  name  did  you  say  ?  "  he  asked. 

Villefort  was  dumfounded.  This  was  asking  too 
much — ^more  than  he  had  bargained  for.  He  felt  that 
he  must  fall  back  upon  the  truth,  so  he  replied : 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  anything  more  that  you  do  know  ?  " 


TREACHERY.  247 

"  I  can  relate  some  suspicious  circumstances,"  said 
Villefort. 

"Goon!" 

"  I  am  well  acquainted  with  the  Batistelli  servants. 
Adolphe  is  easily  bribed ;  Snodine  is  a  woman  to  whom 
a  secret  is  of  no  value  unless  she  can  tell  it;  while 
Manassa  is  a  garrulous  old  fool  who  will  tell  all  he 
knows  for  nothing." 

"What  have  you  found  out?"  This  question  was 
uttered  in  a  tone  that  was  sharp  and  commanding. 

"  Just  this,"  said  Villefort,  and  he  adopted  a  con- 
fidential manner ;  "  you  see,  I  am  well  acquainted  at 
the  hotel,  and  hotel  servants  are  very  observing — and 
very  communicative  under  certain  circumstances.  It 
seems  that  one  day  an  old  man — no  one  at  the  hotel 
knew  who  he  was — brought  a  letter  from  somebody  for 
Lieutenant  Duquesne.  After  reading  this  letter,  prob- 
ably, he  cut  his  initials — V.  D.  C. — into  the  table. 
Those  initials  gave  me  my  first  clue." 

"  But  what  about  the  old  man  ?  "  asked  Cromillian, 
for  the  first  time  showing  some  interest  in  what  was 
being  told  to  him. 

"  All  right,  I'll  tell  you  all  I  know,"  said  Villefort, 
still  more  confidentially  than  before.  "  One  of  the 
hotel  servants  had  occasion  to  walk  up  the  road  and  saw 
the  old  man  going  into  the  Batistelli  castle.  I  learned 
from  Adolphe,  for  a  consideration,  that  he  listened  and 
heard  Pascal  Batistelli  tell  the  man  that  he  would  give 
him  a  hundred  louis  d'or  for  something,  but  Adolphe 
could  not  hear  just  what  it  was.  Several  days  ago,  a 
shepherd  boy  brought  a  letter  to  Pascal  Batistelli. 
Adolphe  followed  the  boy  and  saw  him  give  something 
to  a  man  who  was  in  the  maple  grove — but  Adolphe 
says  he  was  not  the  old  man  who  first  came  to  see 
Pascal.  Two  things  Adolphe  noticed — that  the  man 
wore  a  red  vest  under  his  jacket,  and  that  he  had  lost 
the  thumb  and  forefinger  of  his  right  hand." 


248  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Cromillian  brought  his  hand  down  upon  the  table 
with  such  force  that  Villefort  recoiled  in  astonishment. 
The  bandit  then  set  his  teeth  tightly  together  and  his 
brows  were  knit.  He  was  recalling  some  circum- 
stances, and  the  memories  were  evidently  unpleasant. 

Paoli  had  wished  to  go  and  see  his  mother  and  had 
sent  a  man  in  his  place  to  carry  that  letter  to  Lieutenant 
Duquesne.  Paoli  had  asked  to  go  again  to  see  his 
mother,  when  he  had  wished  him  to  go  to  Ajac- 
cio.  This  time  Paoli  had  supplied  another  sub- 
stitute— a  man  wearing  a  red  vest,  who  had  lost  the 
thumb  and  forefinger  of  his  right  hand. 

Cromillian  arose,  went  to  a  heavy  oaken  chest,  un- 
locked it,  and  took  out  a  bag  in  which  the  coins  clinked 
as  he  dropped  it  upon  the  table.  He  coimted  out 
eleven  louis  d'or. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  pushing  it  toward  Villefort,  "  is  the 
louis  d'or  which  Count  Mont  d'Oro  should  have  paid 
you ;  here  are  ten  more  for  the  information  which  you 
have  given  me,  which  may  or  may  not  prove  valuable. 
Be  discreet,  learn  all  you  can,  and  your  reward  will  be 
doubled.  Money  comes  easily  to  me  and  I  consider  it 
my  duty  to  keep  it  moving.  Go,  now!  I  will  attend 
to  Count  Mont  d'Oro  and  those  who  are  aiding  him." 

The  next  morning,  Cromillian  returned  early  to  his 
camp.  Hardly  had  he  reached  it,  when  Paoli  came  to 
him  and  announced,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  his 
mother  was  dead  and  that  he  wished  a  furlough  for  sev- 
eral days  in  which  to  attend  to  her  burial  and  to  secure 
the  little  inheritance  which  was  to  come  to  him. 

"  I  shall  be  busy  for  a  while,"  said  Cromillian,  "  but 
I  will  soon  send  for  you  and  hear  your  report  on  what 
has  taken  place  during  the  three  days  I  have  been  away. 
After  that,  you  may  go." 

As  Paoli  was  walking  away,  Cromillian  cried: 

"  Ah,  Paoli,  by  mistake,  I  left  something  at  the 
Widow  Nafilet's.     Send  Borteno  here.     Since  he  lost 


TREACHERY.  249 

his  thumb  and  forefinger  in  that  last  scrimmage  -with 
the  gens  d'armes  his  fighting  days  are  over,  for  he  can- 
not pull  a  trigger ;  but  he  will  make  a  good  messenger, 
for  his  legs  are  sturdy  and  he  can  keep  a  secret." 

Borteno  soon  appeared. 

"  Tell  Londora  and  Fabria  that  I  wish  to  see  them." 

In  a  short  time  Borteno  returned,  accompanied  by 
the  two  men. 

The  arbour  used  by  Cromillian  for  what  might  be 
called  his  private  office,  ended  at  the  base  of  a  high 
hill,  being,  in  reality,  a  cul-de-sac. 

"  Go  to  the  farther  end  of  the  arbour,"  said  Cro 
millian  to  Borteno.     "  I  wish  to  speak  to  you." 

After  he  had  gone,  Cromillian  said  in  an  undertone 
to  the  two  men: 

"  If  any  one  attempts  to  leave  the  arbour  before  I  do, 
shoot  him  down." 

He  turned  and  entered  the  grove,  finding  Borteno  at 
the  farthest  extremity. 

"  Borteno,"  said  he,  "  I  am  going  to  ask  you  a  ques- 
tion, and  whether  you  live  or  die  within  the  hour  de- 
pends upon  your  answer." 

The  man  dropped  his  eyes  and  trembled  visibly. 

"  My  question,"  said  Cromillian,  "  has  two  parts  to 
it,  but  it  will  take  but  few  words  to  answer  both." 

Borteno  made  a  strenuous  effort  to  regain  his  com- 
posure, and  partly  succeeded.  "  You  are  my  chief,  and 
your  word  is  law,"  he  replied. 

"  Then  listen,"  said  Cromillian.  "  On  what  night, 
and  at  what  hour,  will  Pascal  Batistelli  be  in  the  maple 
grove  behind  his  castle,  and  who  of  my  followers  will 
meet  him  there  to  get  a  hundred  louis  d'or?  Mind 
you,  I  do  not  ask  for  what,  for  I  already  know." 

The  man's  eyes  almost  started  from  their  sockets — 
but  he  could  not  speak. 

"  I  do  not  blame  you,"  said  Cromillian,  "  for  you  but 
obeyed  orders,  but  you  must  answer  my  questions." 


250  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

With  trembling  voice  Borteno  said :  "  To-morrow 
night,  at  nine  o'clock." 

Cromillian  approached  the  man  and  they  stood  face 
to  face,  eye  to  eye. 

"What  more?" 

Borteno  uttered  but  one  word — "  Paoli !  " 

"  It  is  well,"  said  Cromillian.     "  Come  with  me." 

When  they  reached  the  entrance  to  the  grove,  Lon- 
dora  and  Fabria  stood  there,  rifles  in  hand.  Borteno 
was  in  the  advance.  Suddenly,  Cromillian  grasped 
him  by  the  collar  of  his  jacket  and  pulled  him  backward. 

"  I  had  almost  forgotten,"  he  muttered.  To  the  two 
sentinels,  he  said: 

"  Bind  him  and  gag  him,  and  let  no  one  approach 
him  until  I  give  you  orders." 

On  the  night  of  Vivienne's  birthday  party,  Cro- 
millian, accompanied  by  Londora,  Fabria,  and  six  more 
of  his  trusted  men,  made  their  way  to  Alfieri  and  con- 
cealed themselves  in  the  maple  grove. 

As  Paoli  opened  his  mouth  to  tell  Pascal  Batistelli 
that  Lieutenant  Victor  Duquesne  was  in  reality  Van- 
demar  Delia  Coscia,  a  leaden  messenger  from  Cromil- 
lian's  rifle  entered  his  brain. 

After  the  fusilade,  which  caused  the  Batistelli 
brothers  and  Count  Mont  d'Oro  to  retreat  to  the  Castle, 
Cromillian  turned  to  his  men  and  said: 

"  There  is  but  one  proper  reward  for  treachery — 
and  that  is  death !  Reload  and  follow  me !  We  shall 
have  more  and  heavier  work  shortly." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

"  HE  IS  THE  MAN  I  " 

Count  Mont  d'Oro,  Pascal,  and  Julien  did  not 
loiter  on  their  return  to  the  castle.  An  unseen  enemy 
is  always  more  terrible  than  one  who  stands  out  in  plain 
view,  and  although  the  three  men  were  not  devoid  of 
physical  courage,  and  possessed  the  natural  pride  of 
their  race,  they  felt  greatly  relieved  and  breathed  much 
easier  when  they  reached  the  reception  room  of  the 
castle,  which  they  had  left  such  a  short  time  before  on 
what  had  proved  to  be  a  dangerous  and  fruitless  errand. 

They  found  the  place  empty,  for  the  guests  had  not 
yet  returned  from  the  supper  room.  They  could  hear 
the  hum  of  voices,  and  occasionally  one  broke  into  ia 
Bong,  the  refrain  of  which  was  taken  up  by  the  company 
at  the  table,  while  at  intervals  the  music  of  the  or- 
chestra could  be  heard. 

"  Who  could  have  fired  that  shot?  "  asked  Julien. 

"  It  was  Cromillian,"  replied  Pascal.  "  The  man 
who  was  on  the  point  of  disclosing  the  identity  of  Van- 
demar  Delia  Coscia  was  Paoli,  Cromillian's  lieutenant. 
That  moral  bandit,  as  they  call  him,  is  a  devil.  I 
shall  send  to  France  for  authority  to  hunt  him  down 
and  kill  him,  as  a  foe  to  society.  Vandemar  has 
escaped  us,  but  Cromillian  shall  not !  " 

"  Vandemar  has  not  escaped  us,"  said  the  Count. 
"  It  is  unfortunate  that  Paoli  was  killed,  but  I  possess 
the  secret  which  he  would  have  disclosed." 

"  You !  "  cried  Pascal  and  Julien,  astonished.  "  Who 
is  he  ?     Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Let  us  seek  some  other  room,"  suggested  the  Count 
"  The  guests  will  soon  return." 

261 


252  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

They  passed  into  the  adjoining  ante-chamber.  When 
there,  Count  Mont  d'Oro  told  of  the  discovery  made  by 
Villefort,  but  took  all  the  credit  to  himself. 

"  You  have  a  double  claim  upon  our  gratitude,"  said 
Pascal.  "  Your  forbearance  under  the  insult  to  which 
you  were  subjected  this  evening  by  our  sister,  and  the 
great  service  which  you  say  you  can  render  our  family 
in  enabling  us  to  remove  the  stain  of  Rimhecco  from 
our  name,  will  make  us  your  friends  for  life.  The 
boon  you  ask — the  hand  of  our  sister — is  a  compliment 
to  us  rather  than  a  reward  to  you. 

"  Go,  Julien,"  he  cried,  "  and  acquaint  Vivienne  of 
our  discovery.  Then  see  that  the  ladies  remain  in  the 
supper  room,  for  this  affair  shall  be  settled  within  the 
walls  of  the  castle.  Vandemar  shall  not  leave  this 
house  aliva  The  Count  and  I  will  send  word  to  our 
retainers  and  friends,  so  that  they  may  be  witnesses 
of  this  act  of  justice." 

Julien  sent  Adolphe  to  summon  Vivienne  to  the  ante- 
chamber. She  came  immediately,  for  the  disappear- 
ance of  Count  Mont  d'Oro  and  her  brothers,  together 
with  their  long  absence,  filled  her  with  indefinable 
fear. 

"  What  is  it,  Julien  ?  "  she  cried.  "  Why  have  you 
Bent  for  me  ?     What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  We  have  made  a  most  miraculous  discovery,"  he 
answered,  and  Vivienne  judged  from  the  expression  on 
his  face  that  whatever  it  might  be,  the  knowledge  gave 
him  great  pleasure. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Vivienne.  "  I  hope  it  is  something 
that  I  can  enjoy  as  well  as  you.  l^ow,  Julien,  was  not 
that  a  selfish  remark  ?  "  and  she  laughed  at  her  own 
desire  to  be  pleased. 

"  We  have  learned,"  said  Julien,  and  he  lowered  his 
voice,  "  that  this  so-called  Englishman,  this  Lieutenant 
Duquesne,  is  the  enemy  of  our  family — ^Vandemar 
DeUaCoscia!" 


"HE  IS  THE  MAN!"  263 

For  a  second  it  seemed  to  Vivienne  as  though  the 
blood  ceased  to  move  in  her  veins,  and  that  her  heart 
stood  still,  but  she  summoned  courage. 

"  Who  told  you  this  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  Count  Mont  d'Oro." 

"A  miserable  plot!"  she  exclaimed.  "He  looks 
upon  Lieutenant  Duquesne  as  a  rival  and  has  hatched 
up  this  story  to  compass  his  death.  How  can  men  be 
so  base  ?  " 

"  You  have  answered  your  own  question,"  said  Ju- 
lien.  "  For  the  love  of  a  woman  man  can  make  himself 
either  a  hero  or  a  villain.  But  think,  Vivienne,  when 
this  man  is  dead,  no  one  can  point  the  finger  of  scorn 
at  us,  or  couple  the  word  Rimhecco  with  our  family 
name." 

"  But  it  is  a  wicked  plot,"  cried  Vivienne.  "  The 
Count  has  no  proof.  He  could  easily  invent  such  a 
story  as  he  told  you.  The  night  I  followed  you  to  the 
woods,  Julien,  I  was  robbed  of  my  clothing  and  jewels 
and  left  to  die  in  the  storm.  Lieutenant  Duquesne 
saved  my  life.  Then  I  saved  his,  for  it  was  I  who 
killed  the  two  men  who  had  been  hired  by  Count  Mont 
d'Oro  to  murder  the  man  who,  he  now  says,  is  Vande- 
mar  Delia  Coscia.  How  plain  this  all  is!  It  is 
strange  that  you  cannot  see  it,  Julien.  You  and 
Pascal  may  do  as  you  will,  but  I  shall  warn  Lieu- 
tenant Duquesne  so  that  he  may  escape.  He  is  un- 
armed, and  cannot  defend  himself  against  you 
all." 

Julien  grasped  his  sister  by  the  arm,  but  she  broke 
away.  Breathing  heavily,  and  with  wild,  staring  eyes, 
she  rushed  into  the  reception  room,  to  the  great  astonish- 
ment of  the  assembled  guests. 

Before  she  could  speak,  other  voices  were  heard. 
They  were  the  voices  of  men,  and  they  chanted  the 
words  which  had  so  often  preceded  the  death  of  some 
man  or  woman  doomed  by  the  vendetta : 


264  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  Place  on  the  wall  before  my  bed 
My  cross  of  honour  well  gained. 
To  my  sons,  my  sons,  in  a  far  country, 
Convey  my  cross  and  bloody  vest. 
He,  my  first  born,  will  see  the  rents. 
For  each  rent,  a  rent  in  another  shirt, 
A  wound  in  another  heart.    Vengeance! 
The  hour  for  vengeance  is  nigh. 
Make  ready  his  bed  in  the  valley  of  skulls; 
He  comes,  the  last  of  his  race,  but  he 
Comes  to  his  couch  with  a  stain  on  his  shroud. 
Only  to  die;  the  vendetta,  the  spirit  of  the  vendetta 
Is  awake;  it  has  slept  too  long.     Blood  for  blood  1 
The  noble  house  of  Batistelli  no  longer  shall 
Bear  the  dread  reproach  of  Rimbeccarej  the  stain 
Shall  now  be  washed  away  in  blood. 
Yandemar  must  die! " 

"  Bless  my  soul ! "  ejaculated  Admiral  Enright. 
"  A  most  re-mark-a-ble  serenade.  What  does  it 
mean  ? " 

The  question  was  answered  by  the  Mayor  of  Ajaecio : 
"  It  is  the  chant  of  the  Death  Brothers." 

"  The  Death  Brothers «  "  asked  Helen.  "  But  this 
is  a  birthday  fete,  not  a  funeral." 

"  In  Corsica,"  said  the  Mayor,  "  one  is  often  fol- 
lowed by  the  other." 

"  But,"  cried  the  Admiral,  "  cannot  you  as  mayor, 
order  them  away  ?  " 

"  I  am  unarmed,"  was  the  reply,  "  and  have  no  posse 
with  me." 

"  But  you  represent  the  law,"  cried  Helen. 

"  I  do,"  said  the  Mayor,  "  but  the  vendetta  is  above 
the  law.  I  can  deal  with  the  offenders  afterwards, 
when  known,  but  it  is  impossible  to  prevent  the 
tragedy." 

So  saying,  he  beckoned  to  one  of  the  gentlemen 
present  and  they  left  the  room  together. 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on,  Vivienne  had 
eagerly  scanned  the  faces  of  the  guests,  but  Victor  was 
not  there.  Where  could  he  be?  Had  they  already 
killed  him?     Were  the  Death  Brothers  chanting  over 


"HE  IS  THE  MAN!"  256 

his  dead  body?  Had  Pascal  and  the  Count  met  him 
in  the  garden  and  wreaked  their  double  vengeance  upon 
him? 

At  that  moment  Victor  entered,  escorting  the 
Coimtess  Mont  d'Oro  and  Miss  Renville.  Conducting 
them  to  chairs,  he  made  his  way  at  once  to  Vivienne. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  "  but  after  I  was  forsaken  by 
you,  I  discovered  that  the  Countess  and  her  friend  had 
been  deserted  by  their  cavaliers,  and  I  proffered  myself 
as  escort." 

Vivienne  moved  to  a  part  of  the  room  where  there 
were  fewer  listeners.  Then  she  said  in  suppressed 
tones: 

"  You  must  leave  the  castle  at  once.  Lieutenant  Du- 
quesne.  You  are  in  danger.  The  Count  wishes  your 
life.  It  is  my  fault,  for  I  insulted  him  grievously,  and 
now  you  must  suffer.  Oh,  leave  the  castle  before  they 
come  back.  Go  to  your  ship — that  is  your  only  place 
of  safety.  I  will  have  a  horse  saddled  and  you  can 
escape  easily." 

Vivienne  did  not  mention  that  he  was  suspected  of 
being  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia.  She  did  not  believe  the 
story,  and  why  should  she  speak  of  it  ?  If  she  did,  he 
might  think  that  she,  too,  believed  it;  so  she  simply 
warned  him,  in  order  to  keep  her  word. 

Victor  stood  irresolute.  He  was  unarmed,  and  knew 
the  Count  to  be  a  vindictive,  revengeful  enemy,  but  he 
certainly  would  not  murder  him  in  cold  blood  in  the 
presence  of  so  many  witnesses.  He  turned  to  Vivi- 
enne: 

"  Let  the  Count  do  his  worst !     I  shall  remain !  "  ^ 

The  chanting  of  the  Rimbeccare  had  ceased,  but  it 
was  followed  by  shouts  and  cries  which  portended  death 
to  the  object  of  the  Death  Brothers'  vengeance.  The 
sound  of  moving  men  was  heard;  then  Count  Mont 
d'Oro,  followed  by  Pascal,  Julien,  and  the  Death 
Brothers,  entered  the  room,  the  startled  and  affrighted 


266  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

guests  making  way  for  them.  The  Count  advanced 
towards  Victor,  who  stood  beside  Vivienne.  He  pointed 
his  finger  at  Victor  and  cried: 

"  He  is  tlie  man !  " 

Then,  turning  to  the  guests,  he  said,  in  his  most 
polite  manner: 

"  I  beg  the  pardon  of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  present 
for  what  is  about  to  occur.  I  would  advise  the  ladies 
to  leave  the  room,  for  the  scene  which  is  to  follow  is 
not  one  they  should  look  upon.  It  will  be  an  act  of 
justice  long  delayed." 

The  Mayor  of  Ajaccio,  who  had  returned  and  heard 
the  Count's  words,  stepped  forward,  and  said,  in  firm 
tones : 

"  If  it  is  an  act  of  justice,  I  represent  the  law  and 
will  see  that  it  is  administered." 

"  It  is  an  act  of  justice,"  cried  Pascal ;  "  but  it  is 
more.  It  is  something  that  affects  the  honour  and  good 
name  of  the  Batistellis,  and  that  is  beyond  your  juris- 
diction. Speak  up.  Count  Mont  d'Oro,  and  let  all 
listen." 

"  Before  you  all,"  cried  the  Count,  "  I  declare  that 
the  man  standing  there,"  and  he  again  pointed  his  finger 
at  Victor,  "  is  masquerading  under  an  assumed  name. 
He  is  not  the  one  he  seems  to  be.  He  is  not  an  English- 
man, but  a  Corsican.  His  name  is  not  Victor  Du- 
quesne,  but  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia !  " 

"  It  is  false,  good  friends,"  cried  Vivienne.  "  The 
Count  does  not  contemplate  an  act  of  justice,  but  one 
of  vengeance." 

"  It  is  true,"  cried  Pascal.  "  He  is  a  son  of  the  man 
who  murdered  my  father,  and  by  our  unwritten  law, 
handed  down  to  us  for  hundreds  of  years,  his  death  is 
but  a  poor  requital  for  his  father's  crime." 

Count  Mont  d'Oro  unsheathed  his  sword  and  ad- 
dressed Pascal: 

"  It  is  my  right  to  secure  satisfaction  for  the  insult 


"HE  IS  THE  MAN!"  257 

given  me  before  your  guests  to-night  If  in  doing  this 
I  avenge  your  wrongs,  so  much  the  better." 

As  Count  Mont  d'Oro,  with  drawn  sword,  advanced 
towards  Victor,  who,  unarmed,  looked  at  him  proudly 
and  defiantly,  loud  cries  burst  from  many  of  the  ladies, 
who  averted  or  covered  their  faces,  while  some  of  the 
gentlemen  exclaimed: 

"  It  is  not  the  Count's  right.  It  belongs  to  Pascal 
and  Julien." 

Vivienne  turned  an  entreating  face  towards  Admiral 
Enright.  Would  he  do  nothing  to  save  his  friend  and 
brother  officer?  Then  she  noticed  for  the  first  time 
that  the  Admiral's  sword  hung  by  his  side.  She  leaped 
towards  him,  grasped  the  hilt,  drew  the  weapon  from  its 
scabbard  and,  an  instant  later,  placed  it  in  Victor's 
hand.  Then  she  reeled,  and  would  have  fallen  had  not 
the  Admiral  and  his  daughter  supported  her. 

Victor  was  an  adroit  swordsman.  He  was  cool  and 
collected,  while  his  antagonist  was  angry  and  over-con- 
fident. Victor  felt  that  the  contest  meant  death  to 
one  of  them.  He  loved,  and  he  wished  to  live.  The 
Count's  passion  made  him  almost  a  madTnaTi,  and  the 
fight  was  of  long  duration. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  "  cried  the  Admiral.  "  That  is  the 
most  re-mark-a-ble  bit  of  fencing  I  ever  saw." 

But  the  end  came.  For  an  instant  the  Count  was  ofF 
his  guard.  Victor  saw  his  opportunity  and  sent  his 
blade  through  the  Count's  sword-arm. 

Pascal,  sword  in  hand,  rushed  forward  and  joined  in 
the  attack.  At  the  same  moment  Julien  signalled  with 
his  sword  to  the  Death  Brothers,  who,  with  stilettos, 
gathered  about  the  contestants. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  "  cried  the  Admiral.  "  This  ia 
murder." 

Pascal  was  not  a  good  swordsman,  and  his  advent  dis- 
concerted rather  than  aided  the  Count,  who  struck 
wildly,  putting  at  defiance  both  science  and  skill.     Vio- 


258  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

tor  did  not  wish  to  injure  Pascal,  but  he  had  no  com- 
punctions as  regarded  the  Count.  Although  opposed 
by  two  men,  he  changed  his  tactics  from  the  defensive 
to  the  aggressive.  Using  a  trick  which  he  had  learned 
from  his  French  fencing-master,  he  disarmed  Pascal, 
sending  his  sword  flying  into  the  air.  As  it  fell  the 
hilt  struck  the  Count  upon  the  head.  Bewildered  by 
the  blow,  he  dropped  his  sword-point  so  low  that  it  left 
the  upper  part  of  his  body  unguarded,  and  the  next 
moment  Victor  ran  him  through. 

The  Count  dropped  his  weapon  and  threw  both  hands 
into  tlie  air.  The  horrified  spectators  expected  to  see 
him  reel  and  fall  backwards,  but,  instead,  he  placed 
both  hands  upon  his  chest,  as  though  striving  to  check 
the  vstream  of  blood  which  welled  forth.  His  strength 
soon  failed  him ;  he  sank  upon  his  knees,  then  fell  prone 
upon  his  face. 

Pascal  regained  his  sword  and  was  joined  by  Julien. 
Victor  was  now  confronted  by  the  brothers  of  the  woman 
Avhom  he  loved.  The  situation  was  a  terrible  one.  His 
first  thought  was  to  throw  down  his  sword  and  let  them 
wreak  their  vengeance  upon  him.  But  life  is  sweet, 
and  love  is  sweeter.  Perhaps  he  could  disarm  them 
both,  for  even  together  they  were  not  his  equal  in  sword- 
play. 

At  that  moment  a  loud  report  was  heard  outside, 
and  a  rifle  bullet  struck  Victor's  wrist.  It  did  not  pass 
through  it,  but,  momentarily,  paralysed  his  sword-arm 
and  the  weapon  fell  from  his  nerveless  grasp.  Victor 
retreated  several  paces — he  must  gain  time.  He  soon 
felt  the  strength  returning  to  his  arm,  but  how  could 
he  regain  possession  of  his  sword  ?  Pascal  and  Julien 
were  advancing  towards  him,  when  Vivienne  threw 
herself  upon  her  knees,  and  grasping  her  brothers,  pre- 
vented their  onward  movement. 

"  Traitress !  "  cried  Pascal.  "  Get  out  of  the  way. 
You  are  no  longer  a  Batistelli." 


"  HE  IS  THE  MAN ! »  269 

Keleasing  her  hold,  Vivienne  accomplished  her  pur- 
pose. Reaching  behind  her  brother  Julien,  she  secured 
Victor's  sword.     Thou,  leaping  to  her  feet,  she  cried: 

"  You  may  kill  him,  but  you  shall  not  murder  him." 

Armed  again,  Victor  faced  his  opponents,  but  the 
apparently  unequal  hand-to-hand  conflict  was  over. 
With  howls  like  those  of  a  pack  of  hungry  wolves,  Cro- 
millian,  followed  by  his  moral  bandits — who,  in  fact, 
looked  more  like  a  band  of  ragged  rascals — burst  into 
the  room,  and  the  tide  of  battle  was  turned.  As  Cro- 
millian  reached  the  body  of  the  Count,  he  stooped  and 
picked  up  the  sword,  at  the  same  time  dropping  his 
rifle  upon  the  floor.  It  was  he  who  had  fired  the  shot 
which  had  been  intended  for  Pascal  or  Julien,  not  for 
Victor.  The  uncertain  movements  of  the  sword- 
players  had  affected  his  usual  unerring  aim. 

"  Two  against  two  is  fair  fighting,"  he  cried. 
"  Come  on,  you  noble  sons  of  BatisteUi,  or  I  will  cry 
Rimbecco  so  that  all  can  hear  it" 

Stung  to  the  quick  by  this,  to  them,  insulting  bra- 
vado, they  rushed  forward.  Despite  the  injury  to  his 
arm,  Victor,  encouraged  by  the  presence  of  Cromillian, 
repeated  the  trick,  and  once  more  sent  Pascal's  sword 
flying  through  the  air.  But  Julien's  fate  was  more 
serious.  He  was  a  better  swordsman  than  his  brother, 
but  he  could  not  withstand  the  furious  onslaught  of 
Cromillian,  who  battered  down  his  guard  time  after 
time,  and  finally  gave  him  a  mortal  wound. 

Vi\ienne  had  watched  the  fight  in  every  detail.  She 
saw  her  brother  Pascal  disarmed  and  at  Victor's  mercy 
— but  she  had  no  feeling  of  sorrow  at  his  impending 
fate.  Then  she  saw  her  brother  Julien  fall — and, 
still,  there  was  no  pang  of  regret  Her  thoughts  were 
of  Victor,  and  of  him  alone. 

The  Death  Brothers  were  cowed,  for  the  muzzles  of 
the  bandits'  rifles  covered  them.  Vivienne  grasped 
Victor's  arm. 


260  THE  CORSICAN  LOVJiRS. 

"  Come  with  me,"  she  whispered,  "  and  I  will  lead 
you  to  a  place  of  safety." 

He  obeyed  without  a  word.  She  pulled  aside  some 
tapastry,  opened  a  door  which  had  been  concealed  by  it, 
and  a  moment  later  he  was  following  her  down  a  long 
passageway,  so  dark  that  he  was  unable  to  discern  the 
outlines  of  her  form. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   HALL  OF   MIREOES. 

Ceomillla.n*s  keen  eye  had  seen  Vivienne  approach 
Victor.  She  could  not  have  said  much  to  him,  for,  an 
instant  later,  she  disappeared  from  the  room.  Cromil- 
lian  looked  at  Pascal,  but  the  latter  did  not  seem  in- 
clined to  measure  swords  with  him,  so  he  glanced  once 
more  at  the  spot  where  Vivienne  had  stood  and  found 
that  Victor,  too,  was  gone. 

The  object  of  his  visit  to  the  Batistelli  castle  had 
been  attained — in  fact,  he  had  done  more  than  he  had  in- 
tended, for  the  killing  of  either  Pascal  or  Julien  had 
not  been  premeditated. 

One  of  his  objects  had  been  to  punish  treachery — and 
Paoli  was  dead;  another  had  been  to  protect  Victor 
from  the  vendetta — and  that,  too,  had  doubtless  been 
accomplished,  and  Victor  was  probably  now  on  his  way 
to  his  ship,  beyond  the  reach  of  his  enemies. 

As  active  hostilities  seemed  to  be  at  an^end,  Cromil- 
lian  quickly  came  to  the  decision  that  hw  and  his  men 
would  be  more  at  home  in  the  maquis  thafi  in  the  Batis- 
telli reception  room. 

When  they  reached  the  door,  they  found  their  way 
barred  by  a  body  of  gens  d'armes.  The  Mayor  of 
Ajaccio  had  dispatched  a  special  messenger  to  summon 
them,  and,  as,  usual,  they  had  arrived  after  the  trouble 
was  over.  Neither  Cromillian  nor  his  men  feared  the 
gens  d'armes.  With  loud  yells,  they  rushed  forward, 
scattering  the  police  as  though  they  had  been  pup- 
pets. 

After  Cromillian  and  his  bandits  had  left  the  castle, 

261 


262  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

the  gens  d'armes  recovered  from  their  surprise  and, 
with  commendable  courage,  started  in  pursuit  of  the 
outlaws.  Half  an  hour  later  they  returned,  and  the 
leader  reported  to  the  Mayor  that  their  search  had  been 
fruitless.  That  official  provided  them  with  a  task  much 
more  to  their  liking — ^to  act  as  his  escort  back  to 
Ajaccio. 

Dr.  Procida  came  forward  at  once  to  see  if  he  could 
be  of  assistance  to  the  wounded  men.  After  examining 
the  Count's  body,  he  looked  up  and  found  Pascal  re- 
garding him  attentively.  The  doctor  shook  his  head, 
ruefully :  "  He  is  past  human  aid."  He  then  turned 
his  attention  to  Julien,  making  his  examination  much 
more  thorough.  Again,  he  looked  up — Pascal  still 
stood  regarding  him  fixedly. 

"  Nothing  can  be  done,"  he  said ;  "  he  is  dead." 

The  evening  which  had  opened  so  pleasantly  had 
ended  tragically.  The  guests  expressed  their  sym- 
pathy to  Pascal  and  to  Countess  Mont  d'Oro,  then  de- 
parted quickly  for  their  homes. 

A  messenger  was  sent  to  summon  the  servants  of  the 
Countess  Mont  d'Oro,  and  the  body  of  the  young  Count 
was  conveyed  to  his  mother's  house. 

During  the  evening.  Miss  Enright  had  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  Countess  and  Bertha.  At  the  lat- 
ter's  suggestion,  the  Countess  invited  the  Admiral  and 
his  daughter  fo  return  home  with  her,  as  it  would  be 
almost  impossible  to  reach  their  vessel  at  that  late  hour, 
and  the  invitation  was  gladly  accepted.  After  what 
had  taken  place,  a  longer  residence  at  the  Batistelli 
castle  would  have  been  intolerable  to  Helen.  Her 
father,  used  to  scenes  of  blood,  would  not  have  been  so 
sensitive  about  the  matter,  although  he  warmly  resented 
the  treatment  which  his  lieutenant  had  received. 

"  This  is  a  most  re-mark-a-ble  country,"  he  said  to 
his  daughter,  as  they  were  on  their  way  to  the  Countess 
Mont  d'Oro's.     "  I  thought  you  said  the  Corsicans  were 


THE  HALL  OF  MIRRORS.  263 

noted  for  their  hospitality,  and  that  the  person  of  a 
guest  was  sacred." 

"  So  it  is,"  replied  Helen,  "  until  it  comes  in  conflict 
with  the  vendetta,  whose  demands  are  superior  to  cus- 
tom and  to  all  law,  whether  human  or  divine." 

"  Bless  my  soul !  What  a  swordsman  Victor  is !  I'll 
have  him  made  a  captain  as  soon  as  I  get  back  to  Eng- 
land." 

Before  retiring.  Bertha  went  to  the  Countess's  bou- 
doir to  express  her  sympathy  for  her  great  affliction. 

"It  is  a  terrible  blow  to  have  lost  your  only 
son." 

The  Countess's  eyes  were  tearless. 

"  He  has  lost  more  than  I  have,"  she  said.  "  He 
was  never  a  good  son  to  me.  I  would  have  been  a  good 
mother  to  him,  but  he  spurned  my  advice  and  cursed  me 
when  I  reproved  him  for  his  folly  or  his  wickedness. 
His  life  has  been  cut  short,  and  so  have  his  sins." 

Manassa  had  been  awakened  by  the  shouts  and  the 
firing  of  the  gun  which  had  wounded  Victor,  and  made 
his  way  to  the  reception  room.  He  knelt  beside  the 
body  of  Julien,  alternately  weeping  for  the  dead  Batis- 
telli  and  cursing  the  Delia  Coscias. 

Pascal  reasoned  that  Victor  had  not  escaped  from 
the  castle,  but  had  been  taken  by  Vivienne  to  some  hid- 
ing-place within.  Bidding  the  Death  Brothers  follow 
him,  he  searched  every  nook  and  corner  of  room  after 
room,  without  success,  until  only  one  remained — the 
Hall  of  Mirrors. 

At  the  top  of  the  large  square  tower  of  Batistelli 
Castle  was  the  dungeon  chamber  mentioned  in  the  letter 
left  by  Vivienne's  father.  That  letter,  together  with 
the  instructions  for  opening  the  dungeon  door,  had  been 
given  to  Vivienne  that  evening  by  Clarine.  They 
were  too  precious  to  be  trusted  even  to  the  guardian- 
ship of  lock  and  key,  and  Vivienne  had  concealed  them 
in  the  bosom  of  her  dress. 


264  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

In  front  of  the  dungeon  chamber  was  the  Hall  of 
Mirrors,  so  called  because  the  four  sides  were  covered 
bj  large  mirrors  which  extended  from  floor  to  ceiling. 
One  unacquainted  with  the  fact  would  never  have  im- 
agined that  the  four  mirrors,  covering  the  walls  in  which 
was  the  door  leading  to  the  dungeon  chamber,  were 
hinged.  When  these  four  mirrors,  which  opened  like 
doors,  were  thrown  back,  a  new  surprise  greeted  the 
eye.  Upon  the  wall  was  painted  a  picture — the  sub- 
ject being  the  Garden  of  Eden.  In  the  foreground 
stood  Adam  and  Eve,  while  a  short  distance  from  them 
was  a  tree,  among  the  leaves  of  which  the  body  of  a 
serpent  could  be  seen. 

On  this  fatal  night,  the  mirrors  concealing  the  dun- 
geon door  were  closed,  as  they  had  been  for  a  score  of 
years,  at  least.  How  often  Conrad  Batistelli  had  vis- 
ited it  during  his  lifetime,  no  one  knew.  But,  some 
twenty  years  before,  Clarine  had  told  Manassa  that  she 
had  seen  the  master  coming  down  the  long  flight  of  stone 
steps  that  led  to  the  Hall  of  Mirrors.  After  making 
him  promise  not  to  reveal  what  she  should  say,  she  told 
him  that  the  master's  face  was  white  as  a  sheet;  that 
he  had  sent  her  for  some  wine,  and  that  when  she  went 
into  his  room  an  hour  later,  the  bottle  was  empty. 

"  And  you  know,  Manassa,"  she  had  said,  ''  he  has 
never  been  a  drinking  man.  Something  must  have 
frightened  him.  I  wonder  what  there  is  in  that  old 
tower." 

And  Manassa,  who  had  a  poor  opinion  of  women,  had 
replied,  sneeringly: 

"  If  there  is  anything  mysterious  up  there,  you  will 
probably  find  out  what  it  is  before  you  are  satisfied.  In 
woman,  curiosity  takes  the  place  of  courage." 

On  the  evening  of  the  birthday  anniversary,  Pascal 
had  given  orders  that  every  candle  in  the  castle  should 
be  lighted,  and  when  Vivienne  and  Victor  entered  the 
Hall  of  Mirrors  they  found  them  burning  brightly  in 


THE  HALL  OF  MIRRORS.  265 

the  sconces  on  the  wall  between  the  mirrors,  and  in  the 
candelabra. 

"  You  are  safer  here  than  outside,"  said  Vivienne. 
"  I  will  let  you  know  when  the  castle  is  clear,  and  then 
there  will,  no  doubt,  be  a  chance  for  you  to  escape,  and 
if  you  will  allow  me  to  advise  you,  monsieur,  I  should 
say  leave  Corsica — for  a  season  at  least  No  doubt, 
you  and  your  friends  will  be  glad  to  turn  your  backs 
upon  a  nation  which  you  must  henceforth  consider  as 
inhabited  by  barbarians." 

"  Not  at  all,  dear  friend !  There  are  some  here, 
mademoiselle,  whom  I  shall  greatly  esteem  while  life 
lasts." 

"  Try  to  forgive  my  brothers,  if  you  can ;  they  have 
been  fearfully  misled." 

"  I  would  forgive  any  whom  you  love,  mademoi- 
selle, even  though  they  subjected  me  to  the  keenest 
torture,  but  never  can  I  feel  greater  remorse  than  I  do 
at  this  moment." 

"  Remorse — and  for  what  ?  "  cried  Vivienne. 

Victor  was  obliged  to  strain  a  point  in  order  to  sup- 
ply a  suitable  explanation  of  his  feelings.  He  remem- 
bered that  Vivienne  had  told  him  that  she  did  not  love 
Count  Mont  d'Oro,  and  would  never  marry  him.  Vic- 
tor knew  that  Vivienne  was  his  friend,  or  she  would  not 
have  twice  placed  a  weapon  in  his  hand  to  enable  him  to 
defend  himself.  He  had  never  declared  his  love  for 
her,  and  he  had  no  right  to  presume  that  she  was  in  love 
with  him.  He  felt  that  she  would  not  have  aided  him 
had  she  known  him  to  be  a  Delia  Coscia.  Then  Miss 
Enright  had  told  him  that  Corsican  women  were  pas- 
sionate— adding  that  passionate  women  were  usually 
fickle.     Did  Vivienne  love  him  ?     He  would  test  her. 

"  My  remorse,"  he  said,  "  is  due  to  the  fact  that  I 
have  caused  the  death  of  Count  Mont  d'Oro.  Do  you 
remember  the  flower  you  gave  me  the  morning  that  we 
first  met?     Here  it  is.     I  have  it  with  me  always," 


266  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

and  he  held  up  the  white  rose  with  blood-stained  petals. 
"  I  had  sworn  by  this  little  flower  never  to  injure  any 
whom  you  loved,  even  to  save  my  own  life.  And  now, 
God  forgive  me !  I  have  killed  one  dearer  to  you  than 
a  brother.  I  dare  not  ask  your  pardon  for  the  rash 
act — I  can  only  plead  with  Heaven  to  soften  your  heart 
towards  me." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  Vivienne.  "  The 
Count  dearer  to  me  than  a  brother?  Did  I  not  tell 
you- 


Vietor  persisted: 

"  How  can  I  hope  for  pardon  from  you,  his  betrothed 
wife !  "  He  looked  at  the  flower :  "  On  each  tiny  petal 
I  read  a  lesson — peace  and  love.  I  have  proved  rec- 
reant to  my  vow,  sweet  emblem.  I  am  unworthy  of  a 
gift  so  pure.  Die,  then,  with  the  fondest  hopes 
my  heart  ever  cherished.  I  crush  both  beneath  my 
feet!" 

He  threw  the  flower  upon  the  floor  and  raised  his 
foot 

"  ^o,  you  shall  not !  "  cried  Vivienne.  "  Do  not 
destroy  it !  "  As  she  spoke,  she  knelt  and  picked  up 
the  flower.  "  There  is  a  magic  charm  hidden  within 
its  petals.  The  assassin's  steel  could  not  pierce  the 
breast  upon  which  it  reposed.  Would  you,  then,  throw 
away  so  powerful  a  talisman  ?  " 

"  Assassin  ?     You  do  not  mean " 

"  Yes,  Count  Mont  d'Oro  was  no  better  than  an  as- 
sassin. Three  times  he  sought  your  life,  not  because 
you  had  injured  him,  but  because  you  stood  in  his 
path." 

"  Then  you  did  not  love  him  ?  " 

"  I  hated — I  abhorred  him!  I  honour  the  hand  that 
struck  him  down."  She  took  Victor's  right  hand  in 
hers :  "  This  is  the  hand,  and  to  its  keeping  I  intrust, 
once  more,  this  little,  faded  flower.  Keep  it  as  a  me- 
mento of  me,  and  when  you  are  far  away,  look  at  it 


THE  HALL  OF  MIRRORS.  267 

Bometimes  and  remember  that  you  left  one  true  friend 
in  Corsica." 

Victor  took  the  flower  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips : 

"  It  shall  never  leave  me  more !  Vivienne,  you  have 
saved  my  life,  not  only  once,  but  twice,  at  the  risk  of 
your  own.  I  must — I  will  speak,  now  that  we  are 
about  to  part  forever.  I  must  tell  you  that  the  life 
you  saved  is  henceforth  worthless  to  me  unless  blest 
by  your  love.  Oh,  you  could  not  have  avoided  seeing 
my  struggle,  even  while  it  seemed  most  hopeless.  My 
future  happiness  is  in  your  keeping.  A  word  from 
your  lips  will  forever  seal  the  fate  of  one  who  loves  you 
with  a  devotion  second  only  to  that  which  we  owe  to 
God.  Speak,  Vivienne !  But,  remember,  you  hold  my 
life  and  its  dearest  hopes  in  your  keeping.  One  word 
will  bid  me  live  and  hope,  or  blast  forever  the  fondest 
dream  of  my  life !  " 

Vivienne  was  unconventional.  She  lifted  her  lumi- 
nous black  eyes  and  looked  straight  into  his.  There 
was  no  time  for  idle  sentiment-  The  happiness  of  two 
lives,  the  fate  of  one,  hung  upon  her  answer. 

"  If,  indeed,  it  rests  with  me,  then  I  bid  you  live 
and  be  happy,  as  I  shall  be." 

Vivienne  extended  her  hand,  which  Victor  took  and 
held  for  one  brief  moment  It  was  with  diiBculty 
that  he  restrained  the  impulse  to  clasp  her  in  his  arms 
and  kiss  her  sweet  lips,  which  had  so  frankly  confessed 
her  love  for  him.  But  Victor  had  a  chivalric  nature 
and  he  knew  that,  considering  the  avowal  that  must 
be  made,  such  an  act  would  be  ungenerous.  Hard  as 
it  was  to  utter  the  words  which  would  part  them 
forever,  he  realised  that  they  must  be  spoken.  Victor 
flung  her  hand  from  him,  and  cried: 

"  You  love  me,  rash  girl !  I  see  it  in  the  soft  ten- 
derness of  your  eyes — I  felt  it  in  the  fervent  pressufc 
of  your  hand.  No,  no,  you  must  not !  Speak  but  one 
kind  word  to  me  and  you  outrage  every  inherent  prin- 


268  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

ciple  of  your  race !  Dare  even  to  regard  me  with  pity 
and  you  forfeit  every  right  to  your  boasted  name  and 
lineage !  Oh,  I  cannot — ^will  not — deceive  you,  even  to 
win  your  matchless  heart.  You  shall  know  me  as  I 
am,  and  then  I  will  die  at  your  feet!  " 

He  passed  her  the  sword,  the  blade  still  reddened 
with  the  blood  of  Count  Mont  d'Oro.  He  sank  upon 
his  knees,  threw  his  coat  wide  open,  baring  his  chest  for 
the  expected  blow,  and  cried: 

"  Strike,  for  I  am  Vandemar !  " 

Vivienne  started  back,  gazing  at  him  with  horror- 
stricken  eyes.  She  raised  the  sword  as  if  to  strike — 
then  it  fell  from  her  hand,  clanging  loudly  upon  the 
stone.  She  staggered,  and  leaned  for  support  against 
one  of  the  mirrors,  which  reflected  her  shrinking  form, 
her  death-white  face,  and  closed  eyes.  She  had  shut 
them  tightly,  for  before  her  had  risen  the  picture  of 
Vandemar  lying  dead  at  her  feet,  she  standing  over 
him,  the  sword,  dripping  with  his  blood,  in  her  hands. 

Vandemar  saw  her  distress  and,  arising,  said: 

"  You  are  suffering.     Let  me  assist  you." 

"  Stand  back !  Do  not  touch  me !  "  and  Vivienne  re- 
treated towards  the  door  which  led  from  the  room. 

"  What  was  that  ?  "  She  bent  low  and  listened.  It 
was  the  sound  of  many  feet  on  the  stairway.  They 
came  nearer  and  nearer;  then  there  were  shouts  and 
cries. 

Summoning  all  her  strength,  she  shot  the  rusty  bolt 
into  place.  Some  one  tried  to  open  the  door,  but  it 
resisted  his  efforts.  Then  heavy  blows  rained  upon  it 
and  a  voice  cried: 

"Open  the  door!  You  cannot  escape!  We  have 
you  safely  cornered." 

There  was  a  lull  for  a  moment,  then  Vivienne  heard 
her  brother's  voice : 

"  Vivienne,  I  command  you  to  open  the  door.  If 
you  do  not,  it  will  be  broken  down." 


THE  HALL  OF  MIRRORS.  269 

Vivlenne  heard  the  command,  hut  she  did  not  obey 
it ;  instead,  she  turned  a  pleading  face  to  Vandemar. 

"  I  will  open  it,"  he  said,  and  placed  his  hand  upon 
the  bolt. 

She  grasped  his  hand  and  pulled  it  away.  "  Come 
with  me,"  she  said,  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  He  followed 
her,  wondering  what  the  meaning  of  this  new  move 
might  be. 

"You  are  mad!"  she  cried.  "They  would  have 
pierced  your  defenceless  breast  with  a  dozen  stilettos  if 
you  had  opened  that  door." 

"  As  well  now  as  later ;  it  is  only  the  difference  of  a 
few  minutes." 

Vivienne  paced  back  and  forth,  apparently  in  great 
distress  of  mind,  as  if  hesitating  between  love  and  duty. 
Again,  the  cries  were  heard  outside : 

"  Open  the  door,  or  we  shall  break  it  in !  Vande- 
mar must  die !     Blood  for  blood !  " 

The  assailants  had  secured  possession  of  a  heavy  piece 
of  timber,  for  it  was  heard  to  crash  against  the  stout 
oaken  door. 

Vivienne  clasped  her  hands  and  stood  as  if  pray- 
ing: 

"  '  I^ever  open  that  door  except  it  be  in  case  of  great 
extremity,  and  never  divulge  the  secret  unless  it  be  to 
save  human  life.'  Father,  thou  knowest  that  the  hour 
of  extremity  has  come,  and  that  a  life,  dearest  to  me 
of  all  on  earth,  must  be  saved." 

Again  the  battering-ram  struck  against  the  door,  and 
Vivienne  felt  that  it  would  not  long  resist  such  terrific 
blows.  She  drew  a  paper  from  her  bosom  and  rapidly 
scanned  it,  repeating  the  words  to  fix  them  in  her  mem- 
ory. The  hinged  mirrors  were  thrown  back  and  the 
wonderful  picture  of  the  Garden  of  Eden  was  revealed. 
Hidden  springs  were  quickly  touched,  and  soon  the 
massive  dungeon  door  creaked,  and  flew  open  without 
the  aid  of  human  hands.     A  noisome  vapour  came  from 


270  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

the  dungeon  chamber  and  all  looked  black  within. 
Vivienne  pointed  to  the  open  door: 

"  It  is  your  only  chance  for  life.     You  must  go  in !  " 

Vandemar  looked  in,  then  turned  away. 

"  It  is  a  tomb !  "  he  cried.  "  I  would  rather  meet 
my  fate  here  at  once,  than,  to  suffer  slow  torture  frorm 
starvation,  and  perish  at  last  in  a  loathsome  vault.  I 
will  not  enter !  " 

"  You  do  not  value  your  life,"  cried  Vivienne.  "  If 
you  will  not  save  it  for  your  own  sake,  I  entreat  you 
that  you  will  do  it  for  mine.  If  I  live,  I  will  release 
you." 

Vandemar  gave  her  a  questioning  look — he  did  not 
dare  to  believe  what  he  had  heard. 

"  You  hesitate !  You  do  not  believe  me !  "  and  there 
was  a  plaintive  entreaty  in  her  words.  "  Look  in  my 
face  and  see  whether  I  could  treacherously  consign  you 
to  a  death  so  terrible!  " 

Vandemar  took  her  face  in  his  hands  and  looked  into 
her  eyes.  "  Vivienne,"  he  said,  slowly,  "  I  would  trust 
you  though  all  the  demons  of  hell  were  combined  to 
tempt  you." 

He  threw  his  arms  about  her — ^he  might  never  see 
her  again.  Perhaps  this  was  their  last  farewell.  He 
drew  her  close  to  him  and  kissed  her  upon  brow,  cheek, 
and  lips.  With  all  the  contrariness  of  woman,  even  at 
this  crucial  moment,  she  clung  to  him,  for  he  was  the 
first  love  of  her  young  life — and  this  love  was  so  sweet 
— how  could  she  ever  forget  those  kisses  ? 

Again,  with  a  terrible  crash,  the  battering-ram  was 
brought  against  the  door,  impelled  by  a  dozen  strong 
arms  and  hands.  One  more  such  blow  and  it  must  give 
way. 

Vivienne  threw  her  arras  about  Vandemar's  neck, 
but  he  gently  freed  himself  from  her  loving  embrace. 
He  pulled  the  dungeon  door  to  after  him,  but  it  was 
etiU  ajar.     Vivienne  threw  herself  against  it,  and  the 


THE  HALL  OF  MHIRORS.  271 

hidden  bolts  sprang  into  their  places.     Vandemar  was 
safe! 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  she  reached  the  cen- 
tre of  the  great  room.  She  knew  that  she  was  alone, 
but,  as  she  looked  from  side  to  side,  it  seemed  as  though 
the  room  was  full  of  weeping  women,  unhappy  as  she 
was  herself. 

Once  more  the  dull  thud  of  the  ram  as  it  struck  the 
oaken  door !  The  iron  bolt  was  torn  from  its  fastenings 
and  the  door  fell  inward.  Loud  cries  of  exultation 
were  heard  as  Pascal,  followed  by  his  retainers  and  the 
Death  Brothers,  burst  into  the  room  and  rushed  towards 
Vivienne. 

Pascal  grasped  her  arm  roughly: 
"  You  conspire  against  the  honour  of  your  family, 
faithless  girl !     Ingrate ! !     Tell  me  where  you  have 
hidden  this  villain — ^the  son  of  him  who  killed  our 
father." 

Vivienne  released  herself  from  her  brother's  hold 
and  looked  at  him  defiantly : 

"  Pascal,  remember  that  I  am  your  sister.  Our 
father  was  a  gentleman.  Do  not  forget  that  you  are 
his  son." 

"  Stop !  "  shouted  Pascal.     "  You  are  not  worthy  to 
speak  his  name !     Tell  me  where  you  have  hidden  this 
sneaking  lover  of  yours,  for,  by  Heaven,  you  shall  de- 
liver him  to  us  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you.     It  was 
for  him,  the  coward,  coming  here  under  a  false  name, 
that  you  trampled  upon  the  love  of  an  honest  man  and 
set  my  wishes  at  defiance.     You   false-hearted  liar! 
You  are  no  sister  of  mine !    Hypocrite !     Now  speak  I  " 
"  You  see  he  is  not  here." 
"  But  you  know  where  he  is !  " 
"  I  swear  to  you,  Pascal,  that  I  know  not  at  this 
moment  whether  he  be  an  inhabitant  of  earth  or  heaven. 
It  does  not  require  much  time  to  waft  a  spirit  to  the 
skies." 


272  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Her  brother's  eye  caught  sight  of  the  blood-stained 
sword  upon  the  floor: 

"  Have  you  killed  him  ?  Where  is  he  ?  I  will  not 
believe  it  until  I  see  his  dead  body." 

"  That  time  may  come  soon,"  she  replied.  She  was 
thinking  of  Vandemar  in  the  dark  dungeon  behind  her. 
Then  she  wondered  if  the  mirrors  had  been  closed.  If 
not,  Pascal  would  see  the  picture  and  discover  her 
secret.  She  could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  turn  and 
look  at  the  dungeon  door. 

Pascal  had  waited  for  her  to  say  more.  When  she 
did  not,  he  cried: 

"  This  is  but  a  weak  attempt  at  evasion.  You  have 
become  an  adept  in  trickery  and  deception,  ^ow,  hear 
me,  Vivienne,  and  be  warned  in  time.  I  shall  ask  you 
but  once  more — where  is  Vandemar  ?  " 

Vivienne  realised  that  her  entreaties,  no  matter  how 
strong  or  how  persistent  they  might  be,  would  have  no 
effect  upon  her  brother,  who  was  animated  by  the  spirit 
of  his  race — ^the  spirit  of  the  vendetta — which  demands 
a  victim,  a  sacrifice,  an  atonement.  In  her  veins 
flowed  the  blood  of  the  Batistellis.  IN'ow  that  Vande- 
mar was  beyond  their  reach,  she  became  strong,  self- 
reliant,  courageous. 

"  Eind  him,  if  you  think  I  have  hidden  him !  You 
have  the  keys  of  the  castle,  and  see,"  pointing  to  the 
men,  sneeringly,  "  your  friends  are  here  to  help  you ; 
and  when  you  have  found  him,  let  your  band  of  Death 
Brothers  chant  his  dirge." 

Pascal  advanced  towards  her,  his  sword  raised  in  a 
threatening  manner. 

"  I  will  have  no  more  of  this  insolence,"  he  cried. 
"  You  shall  answer,  or  I  will  strike  you  down !  " 

His  anger  was  so  intense  that  he  might  have  carried 
his  threat  into  execution  if  his  followers  had  not  inter- 
posed. 

"  'No,  no !  "  cried  one,  grasping  his  arm.     "  Bethink 


THE  HALL  OF  MIRRORS.  273 

you,  sir.  Bethink  you,  sir,  she  is  a  defenceless  woman. 
You  must  not  strike." 

Then  a  chorus  of  voices  arose :  "  She  is  your  sister. 
You  must  not  strike." 

Pascal  let  his  sword-point  fall,  but  there  was  no  hope 
of  mercy  in  his  voice  when  he  spoke.  He  evidently 
had  a  new  project  in  mind,  and  was  determined  to  carry 
it  out. 

"  I  will  not  kill  you,"  he  exclaimed,  "  but  he  shall 
die!" 

Then  he  beckoned  to  one  of  the  men: 

"  Go  tell  Doctor  Procida  to  come  here  at  once." 

At  the  mention  of  the  doctor^s  name,  Vivienne's 
thoughts  reverted  to  Julien: 

"  Pascal,  tell  me  of  Julien !  Oh,  tell  me,  is  he 
dead?" 

Pascal  did  not  answer.  Vivienne  appealed  to  the 
men :  "  You  will  tell  me.     Is  my  brother " 

One  of  the  men  bowed  his  head,  and  she  knew  the 
worst. 

"  Oh  Pascal !  "  she  cried,  "  how  can  you  think  of 
murder,  of  revenge,  when  Julien  is  dead  ?  " 

"  Your  tears  are  out  of  place.  Why  should  you  weep 
for  one  whom  you  have  insulted  by  unjustly  taunting 
him  with  cowardice  and  delay  of  duty  ?  Have  you  not 
reproached  him  often  for  not  killing  the  very  man  whom 
you  now  screen  from  justice  ?  " 

Vivienne,  who  had  felt  no  sorrow  at  the  death  of 
Count  Mont  d'Oro,  now  wept  unrestrainedly  when 
she  learned  that  her  beloved  brother  Julien  was  no 
more. 

"  I  have,  I  have !  Heaven  forgive  me !  I  will  go  to 
him.  I  must  look  into  his  face  again.  I  will  beg  him 
to  forgive  me.  You  say  he  is  dead,  but  when  I  speak  to 
him,  he  will  come  back  to  life  and  forgive  me,  for  I 
loved  him,  and  he  loved  me." 

Pascal  smiled  grimly,  and  touched  his  forehead  sig- 


274  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

nificantly.  To  one  of  the  men,  he  said  in  an  undertone : 
"  She  has  lost  her  reason." 

Vivienne  was  detennined  to  see  Julien.  She  started 
towards  the  door,  but  Pascal  grasped  her  arm  and  drew 
her  back: 

"  Stay !  You  shall  not  insult  him  with  your  pres- 
ence." 

At  that  moment.  Dr.  Procida  entered.  He  was  a 
dapper  little  man,  with  small,  beady  eyes,  and  was  clad 
in  a  suit  of  black.  His  voice  was  soft  and  apologetic, 
his  manners  suave ;  he  approached  Pascal,  bowing  low : 

"  How  can  I  serve  you  ?  " 

"  My  worst  fears  are  realised,  Doctor,"  said  Pascal. 
"  My  poor  sister  is  mad." 

The  doctor  rubbed  his  hands  together — profession- 
ally, it  seemed  to  those  who  saw  him ;  in  reality,  glee- 
fully— for  he  was  saying  to  himself :  "A  thousand 
francs  in  my  pocket,  at  least." 

"  I  am  not  surprised,"  said  the  doctor.  "  The  events 
of  the  evening  have  been  too  much  for  her  sensitive 
nature,  but  we  %vill  soon  have  her  cured,  Monsieur  Bat- 
istelli.  What  she  needs,  and  must  have,  is  retirement 
— rest.  Our  private  asylum  at  Salvanetra  offers  the 
first,  and  I  will  see  that  she  gets  the  other." 

"  Stop,  sir !  "  cried  Vivienne,  addressing  the  doctor. 
Turning  to  her  brother,  she  said : 

"  You  cannot  mean  it !  You  cannot  be  so  cruel,  so 
utterly  heartless,  as  to  carry  out  such  a  farce  as  this! 
I  must  be  dreaming !  " 

The  doctor  nodded  his  head.  Pascal  saw  the  move- 
ment and  understood. 

"  I  know,  I  know,  my  dear,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Yes, 
it  is  a  dream,  but  you  will  be  much  better  when  you 
awake  to-morrow.  You  will  get  up  looking  as  fresh  as 
a  rose,  and  you  shall  have  a  nice  drive  with  my  wife. 
Would  you  not  like  to  go  with  me  to  Salvanetra  and 
see  the  pretty  house  in  which  I  live  ?  " 


THE  HALL  OF  MIRRORS.  276 

Vivienne  turned  her  face  away.  She  could  not  an- 
swer, for  she  already  loathed  the  man. 

"  Doctor,"  said  Pascal,  "  I  wish  her  to  have  the  best 
of  care." 

"All  my  patients  get  that,"  the  doctor  replied, 
blandly. 

"  She  is  in  e^ood  bodily  health,"  Pascal  continued. 
"  Give  her  no  nostrums,     I  do  not  believe  in  them." 

"  Neither  do  I,"  said  the  doctor.  Until  his  patients 
were  under  his  charge,  he  always  agreed  with  the  ideas 
of  their  relatives  and  friends.  There  is  a  saying  that 
some  persons  are  "  All  things  to  all  men,"  and  there 
are  none  who  so  fully  exemplify  it  as  those  who  have 
charge  of  the  insane. 

"  Pascal,"  cried  Vivienne,  "  you  mistake  me  much 
if  you  think  I  will  tamely  submit  to  this  terrible  outr 
rage.     I  will  die  first !  " 

"  Ah,  monsieur,  do  not  answer  her,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  She  is  becoming  excited,  a  condition  to  be  avoided  if 
possible,  at  least  until  she  is  in  more  suitable  quarters." 

"  I  will  order  the  closed  carriage,  Doctor,"  said  Pas- 
cal, "  and  my  servants,  who  will  accompany  you,  can 
drive  it  back  to-morrow  morning.  Come  along !  "  he 
said  to  Vivienne,  and  he  attempted  to  grasp  her  hand. 

Vivienne  recoiled :  "  Now  ?  To-night  ?  You  cannot 
mean  to-night,  Pascal  ?  " 

"  I  mean  now,  at  once,"  he  cried.     "  Come !  " 

"  Better  try  gentleness  before  using  force,"  Dr. 
Procida  suggested. 

"  Force  ?  You  would  not  force  me  from  this  room  T 
Oh,  Pascal,  shut  me  in  here,  give  me  bread  and  water, 
and  naught  but  the  cold  stones  to  lie  upon,  and  I  will 
bless  you !  " 

Pascal  turned  to  Dr.  Procida :  "  Better  take  her  at 
once." 

Then  Vivienne  appealed  to  the  doctor.  "  No,  no  I 
For  the  love  of  Heaven,  tell  him  to  leave  me  here! 


276  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

I  shall  go  mad,  indeed,  if  you  take  me  from  the 
castle," 

She  threw  herself  at  her  brother's  feet :  "  Here  upon 
my  knees,  I  beg  that  you  will  not  send  me  away  from 
the  dear  home  I  love,  to  live,  and  eat,  and  sleep  ^vith 
lunatics.  Oh,  God!  Suffer  not  a  thing  so  horrible! 
Torture  me,  Pascal.  I  will  endure  anything  at  your 
hands  if  you  will  but  let  me  remain  here !  " 

Dr.  Procida  placed  his  hand  on  Pascal's  arm: 
"  Gently,  monsieur." 

Pascal  raised  Vivienne,  and  adopted  the  doctor's  sug- 
gestion : 

"  It  is  for  your  good,  sister.  I  will  come  to  Salva- 
netra  in  two  weeks.  If  your  health  is  restored,  you 
shall  come  back  with  me." 

"  Two  weeks !  Two  weeks ! !  Oh  Heaven !  Doc- 
tor, tell  me,  tell  me,  can  one  live  two  weeks  without 
food  or  drink,  without  the  light  of  the  sun,  or  moon,  or 
stars  ?  " 

"  You  shall  have  all  you  want,"  the  doctor  replied, 
irrelevantly. 

"  Stop !  "  she  cried ;  "  your  voice  is  like  the  doom  of 
hell  in  my  ears !  " 

Pascal  and  the  Doctor  each  grasped  a  hand,  Vivi- 
enne struggling  violently  to  free  herself,  and  they  were 
obliged  to  let  go  their  hold. 

"  Oh,  Pascal,  one  word — one  word  more — one  last 
appeal !  Let  me  see  Clarine  for  one  minute,  just  one ! 
Let  me  breathe  but  one  word  into  her  ear,  and  I  will 
go  with  you  quietly.  Oh,  you  will  not  refuse  this,  my 
last  request?  Say  I  may,  dear  brother,  oh,  say  I 
may ! " 

The  thought  had  come  to  her  that  if  she  could  see 
her  old  nurse,  tell  her  where  Vandemar  was  and  give 
her  the  paper,  he  might  yet  escape.  Clarine  knew  all 
the  secret  passages  in  the  old  castle.  Hope  still  re- 
mained.    Was  the  paper  safe  ?     Yes,  it  was  there.  The 


THE  HALL  OF  MIRRORS.  277 

poor  girl  was  nervous,  excited,  almost  distracted. 
When  she  withdrew  her  hand  from  her  bosom,  she  un- 
knowingly brought  the  paper  with  it.  It  fluttered  a 
moment  on  the  air,  and  then  fell  to  the  floor. 

Pascal  had  been  watching  her  closely.  Her  action 
had  disclosed  the  hiding-place  of  her  secret.  By  this 
paper,  she  knew  how  to  open  the  dungeon  door — and 
now  it  was  in  his  possession.  A  look  of  almost  fiendish 
exultation  came  into  his  face.  He  tore  the  paper  in 
pieces,  threw  the  fragments  upon  the  floor,  and  stepped 
upon  them. 

Vivienne  had  seen  the  paper  in  Pascal's  hands. 

"  Oh  my  God !  "  she  had  thought,  "  he  will  open  the 
dungeon  door  and  kill  him !  " 

With  a  wild,  despairing  cry,  she  threw  up  her  hands, 
and  was  falling,  senseless,  to  the  stone  floor,  when  the 
doctor  sprang  forward  and  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

Pascal  signed  to  one  of  the  men  to  assist  the  doctor. 
"  Order  the  carriage,"  he  said  to  another ;  then  he 
added :  "  Go,  all  of  you !  I  will  meet  you  soon  in  the 
reception  room.  I  have  something  for  you  to  do  to- 
morrow.    Manassa,  put  out  the  lights." 

As  he  descended  the  long,  steep  stairway,  he  solilo- 
quised : 

"  It  is  just  as  well ;  it  will  be  a  slow  and  lingering 
death,  while  my  sword  or  stiletto  would  have  ended  his 
pain  at  once.  'Tis  better  thus,  for  we  shall  not  have  to 
bury  him." 

Manassa  had  heard  the  last  words  uttered  by  Vivi- 
enne. Before  snuffing  the  candles,  he  picked  up  the 
pieces  of  paper  and  put  them  in  his  pocket.  When  he 
reached  his  room,  he  locked  the  door. 

An  hour  later,  he  looked  up  with  a  satisfied  smile. 

"  It  is  all  here !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  have  the  secret 
of  the  dungeon  door.  Vandemar  shall  die  by  my  hand. 
I  will  avenge  the  wrongs  of  the  BatisteUis !  " 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  DUNGEON  CHAMBEE. 

"No  sooner  did  Vandemar  hear  the  door  of  the  dun- 
geon chamber  close  behind  him  than  there  came  a  revul- 
sion of  feeling.  The  conviction  forced  itself  strongly 
upon  him  that  he  was  the  victim  of  a  plot  which  had 
been  successful. 

He  looked  about  him,  but  could  see  nothing.  Then 
he  remembered  that  he  had  come  quickly  from  a  brightly 
lighted  room  into  a  dark  one,  and  it  was  only  natural 
that  his  vision  should  be  affected.  He  must  wait  until 
his  eyes  accommodated  themselves  to  the  darkness. 
I^o,  he  would  not  wait  He  would  leave  the  place  at 
once.  He  turned  and  retraced  his  steps,  as  he  supposed, 
towards  the  door,  but  when  he  reached  the  wall  he 
could  not  find  it.  He  followed  the  seams  between  the 
stones  with  his  fingers.  The  horizontal  ones  were  much 
longer  than  those  which  ran  perpendicularly,  but  they 
were  all  too  short  to  indicate  the  presence  of  a  door. 
Almost  frenzied,  he  continued  the  search  until  his 
finger-nails  were  broken  and  torn  by  conflict  with  the 
rough  stones.  Still  he  kept  on  until  the  skin  was  torn 
from  his  finger-tips  and  they  were  covered  with  blood. 
Finally,  his  search  was  rewarded,  for  he  came  upon  a 
seam  which,  beginning  at  the  floor,  extended  higher 
than  he  could  reach.  To  make  sure,  he  sought  for  the 
hinges,  but  there  were  none.  Then  he  remembered  that 
he  had  read  about  dungeon  doors  which  swimg  upon 
pivots.  Perhaps,  if  he  exerted  all  his  strength,  he 
might  move  itj  but  he  soon  desisted,  nearly  exhausted. 

278 


THE  DUNGEON  CHAMBER.  279 

Perhaps  she  could  hear  his  voice,  so  he  called  out: 

"  Vivienne !     Vivienne !  " 

His  voice  echoed  and  re-echoed  from  the  walls  of  the 
great  room.  Startled  by  the  unaccustomed  noise,  sev- 
eral bats,  as  he  supposed  they  were,  flew  back  and  forth, 
flapping  their  wings.  The  sound  was  not  so  unpleasant 
after  all.  It  gave  him  satisfaction  to  know  that  in  this 
dark  and  noisome  dungeon  even  such  unpleasant  com- 
panions as  bats  could  live.  If  they  could  survive,  per- 
haps he  could,  until  his  friends  rescued  him.  This 
thought  went  through  his  mind  with  the  rapidity  of 
lightning.  He  called  the  name  Vivienne  a  dozen  times, 
but  there  was  no  response.  Then  he  beat  upon  the 
door  with  his  clenched  fists.  The  blows  made  no  appre- 
ciable sound,  but  he  experienced  sharp  thrills  of  pain 
from  the  concussion. 

"  Vivienne !  "  he  cried,  "  give  me  my  sword.  If 
they  come  to  kill  me  I  am  unarmed.  Give  me  back  my 
sword  so  that  I  may  defend  myself." 

He  listened,  but  there  was  no  sound  excepting  that 
produced  by  the  flapping  of  the  bats'  wings  as  they 
circled  about  the  room.     Then  all  his  doubts  came  back. 

"  She  is  faithless !  She  would  not  kill  me  with  my 
own  sword  when  I  offered  it  to  her.  No,  that  would 
have  been  too  easy  a  death.  Both  she  and  her  brother 
decided  that  my  death  by  starvation  would  be  more  to 
their  liking.  It  v7ould  be  such  a  sweet  revenge  to 
know  that  I  was  dying  by  inches.  Oh,  Vivienne,  why 
does  God  put  such  fiendish  hearts  into  such  angelic 
forms  ?  " 

Man,  in  his  direst  distress,  always  accommodates  him- 
self to  circumstances  and  his  environment.  Thoroughly 
convinced  that  his  duration  of  life  depended  wholly 
upon  himself,  and  that  l.e  could  hope  for  no  outside  as- 
sistance, Vandemar  determined  to  make  the  best  of  his 
condition.  Beginning  at  the  door,  he  followed  the  wall 
until  he  came  back  to  it.     He  learned  that  it  was  rec- 


280  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

tangular  in  shape,  fully  twice  as  long  as  it  was  wide. 
He  proved  this  by  pacing  the  two  distances.  Then  he 
walked  back  and  forth,  covering  the  length  of  the  room, 
groping  with  his  hands  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  chair 
or  cot  upon  which  he  could  rest,  but  there  was  no  article 
of  furniture  in  the  room. 

During  his  monotonous  trips,  he  made  an  important 
discovery.  In  one  comer  of  the  dungeon,  far  above  his 
reach,  was  a  small  window.  He  imagined  that  the 
moon  must  have  been  obscured  when  he  entered  the 
dungeon,  for  when  its  rays  fell  upon  the  window,  he  had 
discovered  it — ^but,  alas,  there  was  no  hope  of  escape, 
for  it  was  closely  barred.  Even  if  he  could  wrench 
those  bars  from  their  fastenings,  it  would  avail  him 
nothing,  for  the  dungeon  was  in  the  uppermost  part  of 
the  tower,  and  he  had  no  rope  or  other  means  of  de- 
scending to  the  ground. 

At  last,  faint  with  the  loss  of  blood  from  his  wounds, 
and  overcome  by  exhaustion  and  despair,  he  threw 
himself  upon  the  cold,  damp  stones,  and  was  soon  lost  to 
consciousness. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

AT  SALVANETEA. 

Terence  Devlix,  who  had  charge  of  the  Batistelli 
grounds,  was  an  early  riser,  as  all  conscientious  gar- 
deners should  be.  Smoking  his  pipe,  with  his  spade 
resting  upon  his  shoulder,  he  stood  regarding  an  old 
withered  tree. 

"  Not  wan  drap  av  rain  finds  its  way  to  the  roots  av 
this  ould  giant  tree.  I  do  believe  it's  full  nine  hun- 
dred years  ould." 

"Terence!" 

The  gardener  turned  when  he  heard  his  name  called, 
and  saw  his  wife,  Snodine,  running  towards  him ;  if  the 
movement  of  a  woman  weighing  nearly  three  hundred 
pounds  could  be  called  running. 

"  What  the  di\drs  the  matter  ? "  was  the  husband- 
like salutation  which  greeted  her  when  she  met  him. 

As  soon  as  she  could  speak,  Snodine  said:  "  I've  been 
up  to  the  castle,  an'  sure  it's  bad  off  they  be  up  theret 
Young  Master  Julien  is  as  dead  as  was  Father  Francis 
when  they  took  him  out  of  the  river  where  he'd  been 
slapin'  for  a  wake,  and  the  Blessed  Virgin  prasarve  us, 
it's  now  goin'  on  two  days  since  the  poor  mad  craythur 
was  taken  away.  Pray  Heaven  the  docthors  may  cure 
her,  for  a  swater  lady  niver  walked  the  earth." 

"  Ah,  Snodine,  it's  a  broken  heart  she  has — and  whin 
they  tell  her  the  Count  is  dead " 

"  An'  do  ye  think  they'll  tell  her  that  same  ?  Sure, 
they'd  not  be  such  a  pack  o'  fools." 

"  'Twas  hard  enough  to  lose  the  brother,  poor  lad ! 
But  the  swateheart,  Snodine;  and  they  to  be  marrit  so 

881 


282  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

soon,  too.  Oh,  Lord  help  the  poor  mad  lady!  She 
loved  the  Count  dearly,  they  tell  me.  An'  whin  is  the 
wake  to  be  for  the  poor  lad,  Snodine  ? " 

"  To-morrow  night.  He'll  have  been  dead  two  days 
thin." 

"  It's  hard  for  the  livin'  brother.  An'  how  does  he 
bear  it,  Snodine  ?  " 

"  As  he  does  everything  else.  Divil  a  tear,  Clarine 
toiild  me." 

"  Well,  it's  hard  to  understand  the  loikes  of  him." 

"  It's  right  ye  are,"  said  Snodine.  "  Niver  a  tear 
for  the  poor  mad  sister,  nor  even  a  wan  for  the  dead 
brother  have  he  shed  yet." 

"  Just  you  wait,  me  darlint,  'til  the  kayner  strikes 
up  the  moumin'.  It's  many  a  dry  eye  I've  seen  over 
the  dead  'til  the  kayners  opened  the  heart,  and  thin, 
faith,  the  tears  came  fast  enough." 

"  It's  a  hard  world,  indade — a  botherin'  world," 
said  Snodine,  wiping  her  eyes,  sympathetically,  with 
the  back  of  her  hand,  although  there  were  no  tears 
in  them. 

"  I'm  thinkin'  that  now,"  said  Terence.  "  N'ow  yer 
go  back,  and  mind  the  childer  and  don't  be  afther 
botherin'  me  whin  it's  workin'  I  am." 

With  these  lover-like  words  Terence  again  shoul- 
dered his  spade  and  walked  off  towards  the  maple  grove, 
while  Snodine  made  her  way  homeward  to  extend  her 
motherly  care  to  her  family  of  nine,  which,  when  stood 
in  a  row  according  to  age,  made  one  think  of  a  flight  of 
stairs. 

And  what  of  the  mad  lady  ? 

Vivienne  was  borne  from  the  castle  in  a  deep  swoon. 
The  events  of  the  evening  had  been  too  much  for  her 
frail,  nervous  organisation,  and  she  had  succumbed. 
She  was  placed  in  a  close  carriage,  and  Dr.  Procida  took 
a  seat  beside  her.     They  were  driven  rapidly  to  Sal- 


AT  SALVANETRA.  283 

vanetra.  The  doctor  wet  Vivienne's  lips  with  brandy, 
which,  together  with  the  cool  evening  air,  that  blew  in 
through  the  open  carriage  window,  soon  revived  her; 
but  she  did  not  speak.  When  they  reached  the  doctor's 
house  she  was  too  much  exhausted  to  walk.  He  called 
two  of  his  attendants,  and  she  was  borne  into  the  house 
and  placed  upon  a  bed  in  one  of  the  rooms.  A  nurse 
was  sent  to  attend  her,  but  she  refused  her  ministra- 
tions and  was  finally  left  alone.  A  single  candle  upon 
the  table  gave  a  flickering  light,  and  filled  the  room  with 
strange  shadows.  She  heard  the  bolt  slip  into  place 
and  knew  that  she  was  not  only  a  patient  but  a  prisoner. 

She  passed  the  most  terrible  night  in  her  young  life. 
Picture  after  picture  came  before  her  eyes,  though 
she  shut  them  tightly,  hoping  to  escape  the  phan- 
toms. One  by  one  they  followed  each  other — her 
friends,  with  a  wreath  of  roses  emblematic  of  her  age — 
then  the  music,  and  singing,  and  dancing — next,  the  ar- 
rival of  Victor  and  the  pleasant  conversation  they  had 
had  at  the  supper  table.  So  far  all  was  joy  and  glad- 
ness. Then  came  visions  of  gloom  and  misery ;  the  at- 
tack upon  Victor — his  valiant  defence — the  death  of 
the  Count  and  her  brother  Julien — the  discovery  that 
Victor  was  Vandemar,  the  son  of  the  man  who  had 
murdered  her  father — Vandemar  in  the  dungeon  cham- 
ber, where  he  must  die  from  starvation  unless  she  could 
escape  and  rescue  him — her  own  terrible  position,  shut 
off  from  communication  with  her  friends,  on  the  sup- 
position that  she  was  mad.  Could  she  live  through  it 
and  not  grow  mad  in  reality  ? 

She  arose  from  her  bed,  took  up  the  sputtering  can- 
dle, which  had  burned  low,  and  made  a  tour  of  the  room 
— floor  and  walls  of  stone,  impregnable  to  any  strength 
which  she  could  exert — windows  small,  high  from 
ground,  and  guarded  by  heavy  iron  bars — the  door  of 
oaken  timber,  thickly  studded  with  bosses  of  iron.  From 
such  a  prison  there  could  be  no  escape.     Strong  men 


^84  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

might  attempt  it,  but  there  was  no  hope  for  one  so  physi- 
cally week  as  she.  Vandemar  in  his  dungeon  chamber 
was  not  more  completely  isolated  from  the  world.  She 
threw  herself  upon  the  bed,  and  the  nurse  found  her 
there  the  next  morning,  sleeping  the  sleep  which  kindly 
comes  to  save  the  worn-out  mind  and  body  when  their 
limit  of  resistance  has  been  reached. 

The  body  of  Count  Mont  d'Oro  had  been  taken  to 
his  mother's  house  and,  on  the  second  day  after  the 
double  tragedy,  the  remains  of  Julien  Batistelli  were 
placed  in  the  crypt  beneath  the  castle,  and  those  of 
Count  Mont  d'Oro,  followed  by  his  mother,  Miss  Ren- 
ville, and  a  few  friends,  were  deposited  beside  the  body 
of  his  father  in  the  little  burying-groimd  used  by  the 
gentry  of  Alfieri  and  vicinity. 

The  night  after  the  funeral,  Bertha  Renville  wrote  a 
long  letter  to  Jennie  Glynne.  She  recounted,  in  detail, 
the  terrible  scenes  through  which  she  had  passed,  and 
expressed  the  hope  that  something  would  occur  to  take 
her  away  from  the  terrible  place. 

"  I  know  that  my  guardian  and  Jack,"  she  had  writ- 
ten, "  both  came  to  Corsica,  but  I  have  not  seen  them. 
Perhaps  they  have  met  and,  in  the  heat  of  passion,  have 
fought  It  may  be  that  either  Jack  or  Mr.  Glynne  is 
dead,  and  sometimes  the  horrible  thought  comes  to  me 
that  their  last  meeting  ended  in  the  death  of  both.  I 
am  filled  with  a  dread  which  I  cannot  express.  The 
Countess  is  kind  to  me,  but  we  two  weak  women  are 
virtually  defenceless.  Oh,  my  dear,  good  friend,  will 
this  terrible  uncertainty  ever  end  ?  Has  the  future  any 
happiness  ia  store  for  me  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXVn. 

TO  THE  SESCUE ! 

The  next  morning  Dr.  Procida  came  to  see  Vivienne. 
On  her  bended  knees  she  implored  him  to  let  her  go 
home.  She  told  him  that  Vandemar  was  in  the  dun- 
geon chamber,  and  that  he  would  die  unless  she  opened 
the  door.  She  felt  in  her  bosom  for  the  paper  and, 
finding  it  was  gone,  burst  into  hysterical  exclamations. 
The  doctor,  who  was  a  friend  of  Pascal,  said : 

"  My  poor  young  lady,  you  are  labouring  under  an 
hallucination.  You  must  take  a  sedative,  or  you  will 
break  down  entirely."  He  placed  a  bottle  upon  the 
table,  saying :  "  I  will  send  the  nurse  to  administer  it." 

No  sooner  had  he  left  the  room  than  Vivienne  threw 
the  bottle  upon  the  stone  floor.  "  It  is  a  drug,"  she 
cried,  "  and  I  will  not  take  it." 

Dr.  Procida  told  Madeline  Villefort,  his  head  nurse, 
to  give  the  medicine  to  Vivienne.  "  I  am  going  away 
for  the  day,"  he  continued,  "  as  I  have  to  see  a  patient 
in  Ajaccio.  I  shall  not  be  back  until  late  this  after- 
noon." 

The  nurse  went  to  Vivienne's  room.  The  young  girl 
was  strangely  calm. 

"  The  doctor  has  been  called  away  for  the  day,'*  said 
Madeline,  "  and  left  you  in  my  charge.  Where  is  the 
medicine  ?  " 

Vivienne  pointed  to  the  floor. 

"  You  are  a  rash  girl,"  said  the  nurse.  "  When  I  tell 
the  doctor  what  you  have  done,  he  will  put  you  in  a 
strait- jacket  or  tie  you  to  your  bed." 

Vivienne  did  not  notice  the  woman's  words ;  in  fact| 


286  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

she  appeared  unconscious  of  her  presence,  and  seemed 
lost  in  thought.     Finally,  she  said  in  an  undertone: 

"  What  a  terrible  thing  is  the  vendetta !  " 

"  Terrible,"  cried  Madeline,  who  had  overheard  her, 
"  I  think  it  is  glorious."  She  drew  a  stiletto  from  the 
bosom  of  her  dress.  "  Do  you  see  that  ?  I  mean  it  for 
the  woman  who  stole  my  husband.  Villefort  was  a 
fool — I  can  forgive  that — ^most  men  are.  But  she 
hated  me  and  I  hate  her.  I  will  kill  her  if  we  ever 
meet." 

Vivienne  appeared  interested.  The  woman  held  up 
the  stiletto,  looking  at  the  glistening  blade  and  sharp 
point.  Vivienne  arose  from  her  chair,  walked  slowly  to 
the  barred  window,  and  looked  out.  The  nurse  was  too 
busy  with  thoughts  of  prospective  vengeance  to  notice 
her  movements.  Vivienne  retraced  her  steps,  noise- 
lessly, until  she  stood  behind  the  chair  where  Madeline 
sat.  Reaching  over  suddenly,  she  grasped  the  hilt  of 
the  stiletto  and,  with  the  strength  of  desperation,  tore 
it  from  the  woman's  hand. 

"  Do  not  move !  "  cried  Vivienne.  "  I  am  going  to 
leave  this  room  and  this  house."  Madeline  attempted 
to  rise  from  her  chair.  "  If  you  move,  I  mil  kill  you," 
cried  Vivienne.  "  His  life  is  everything  to  me — ^yours 
is  as  nothing." 

The  nurse  had  left  the  door  ajar.  With  a  bound, 
Vivienne  reached  it,  threw  it  open,  and  closed  it  quickly 
behind  her.  Then  she  remembered  that  the  bolt  was  on 
the  outside,  and  she  pushed  it  into  place.  She  heard 
Madeline's  cries  as  she  ran  down  the  corridor,  and  sent 
back  a  mocking  laugh  in  response.  She  saw  a  side  door 
opening  into  the  garden — perhaps  the  front  door  was 
guarded — she  would  run  no  risks.  Keeping  her  hand 
upon  the  hilt  of  the  stiletto,  she  made  her  way  through 
the  garden,  for  she  Faw  the  maquis  beyond.  If  she 
could  reach  that,  she  might  rest  until  able  to  go  on. 

In  the  heart  of  the  forest  she  sank  down,  exhausted ; 


TO  THE  RESCUE!  287 

but  the  young  recuperate  quickly,  and  she  was  soon  up 
and  again  on  her  way,  towards  Ajaccio  she  hoped.  She 
had  never  studied  astronomy,  but  from  the  position  of 
the  sun  she  reasoned  that  she  must  go  in  a  certain  di- 
rection, and  events  proved  that  her  intuition  was 
correct.  She  soon  came  to  a  narrow  cross-road, 
which  she  followed,  and  in  a  short  time  found  herself 
on  what  she  thought  must  be  the  main  street  of  Sal- 
vanetra. 

Vivienne  would  have  turned  back  from  the  travelled 
thoroughfare  and  tried  to  make  her  way  through  the 
paths  in  the  maquis,  but  for  two  reasons:  She  was 
afraid  she  might  be  captured  by  a  party  of  bandits  who, 
knowing  that  her  brother  was  wealthy,  would  hold  her 
for  a  large  ransom ;  again,  she  was  faint  and  almost  ex- 
hausted, for  she  had  refused  to  eat  anything  while  in 
Dr.  Procida's  asylum.  She  stood  irresolute  for  a 
while;  then  soliloquised: 

"  I  must  gain  strength  so  that  I  may  get  back  in  time 
to  save  Vandemar;  and  to  gain  strength  I  must  have 
food." 

She  walked  on,  scanning  carefully  each  house  that 
she  passed,  yet  undecided  as  to  which  she  should  apply 
for  assistance.  Espying  in  the  road  a  small  branch  of  a 
tree,  which  had  probably  been  used  by  some  carter  as 
a  whip,  she  picked  it  up,  and  using  it  as  a  staff,  got  on 
her  way  much  faster. 

She  saw  that  she  was  nearing  a  line  of  houses  and 
felt  that  she  must  put  pride  away  and  make  her  appeal. 
She  tapped  lightly  upon  a  door  with  her  staff.  It 
was  opened  by  a  woman,  whose  face  had  a  sharp, 
shrewish  expression.  Vivienne's  first  impulse  was  to 
turn  away,  but  summoning  all  her  strength  and  courage, 
she  said: 

"  Will  you  be  so  kind,  madame,  as  to  give  me  a  piece 
of  bread  ?  I  am  so  tired  and  faint,  for  I  have  eaten 
nothing  since  yesterday." 


288  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"Who  are  you?" 

"  Oh,  do  not  ask  me  my  name.  I  am  not  a  beggar. 
Believe  me,  I  am  not  what  I  seem.  Only  give  me  a 
crust  and  I  will  go." 

"  Honest  people  are  not  afraid  to  tell  their  names," 
said  the  woman,  and  her  voice  was  harsh  and  repel- 
lent. 

"  It  is  because  I  am  honest  that  I  do  not  tell  you  my 
name.  I  might  give  you  one  easily,  but  it  would  not 
be  my  own." 

"  Then  go  away !  "  cried  the  woman.  "  !N"o  doubt 
you  have  been  turned  away  from  some  farmhouse  for 
drunkenness,  theft,  or  something  of  that  sort.  Be  off 
with  you !  "  and  she  slammed  the  door. 

Vivienne  had  on  the  simplest  and  coarsest  dress  that 
belonged  to  her.  Her  brother  Pascal  had  thoughtfully 
sent  some  of  her  clothing  in  the  carriage,  and  although 
he  had  not  made  the  selections  his  sister  would 
have  wished,  yet  he  could  not  have  done  better,  for 
Vivienne  had  determined,  from  the  first,  to  escape  from 
the  asylum,  and  the  unpretending  costume  which  she 
wore  served  her  purpose  much  better  than  the  one  in 
which  she  had  looked  so  beautiful  at  her  birthday  party 
w^ould  have  done. 

Vinenne  turned  away  from  the  door  sick  at  heart. 
"  Oh,  Pascal,  I  could  wish  you  no  greater  punishment 
for  your  sin  against  your  wretched  sister  than  for  you 
to  have  heard  those  terrible  words." 

Her  head  was  aching  and  she  pressed  both  hands 
upon  her  forehead : 

"  No,  I  must  not  sink  down  here  in  the  street ;  they 
would  shut  me  up  in  the  jail.  I  will — I  must  obtain 
food.  Even  a  morsel  would  give  me  strength  to  reach 
him.  Why  should  I  die  with  the  cool  fresh  air  about 
me,  and  the  sun  giving  me  light,  while  he  is  shrouded 
in  darkness  and  dying  from  hunger  and  thirst  in  a  liv- 
ing tomb  ?     Oh,  Vandemar,  Vandemar,  I  will  not  die ! 


TO  THE  RESCUE!  289 

There  is  a  kind  soul  in  this  house,  for  I  hear  the 
laughter  of  children.  A  mother's  heart  is  always  open 
to  pity." 

A  man  servant  appeared  at  the  door.  "  What  is  your 
business  here,  my  good  woman  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  am  very  hungry.  Give  me  some  food 
and  Heaven  will  bless  youl  " 

"  My  mistress  is  sick,"  said  the  man,  "  but  I  will 
send  the  housekeeper  to  you." 

"  Thank  you ;  you  are  very  kind."  Vivienne  leaned 
against  the  door-post  "  I — I  cannot  stand ;  my 
strength  is  deserting  me."  As  she  sank  on  the  door- 
step, a  woman  appeared. 

"  Well,  what  is  wanted  ?  "  was  her  query.  "  Beg- 
ging, I  suppose." 

"  I  wish  only  for  a  piece  of  bread,  madame.  You 
will  surely  not  refuse  me.  I  have  walked  so  far  and  I 
am  faint  and  tired — oh,  so  very  tired.  I  pray  that  you 
will  give  me  something,  even  the  poorest  crust  from 
your  table." 

"  I  understand  it  all — ^you  have  escaped  from  the 
asylum.     Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  To  my  home  at  Ajaccio,"  Vivienne  answered. 
"  Oh,  madame,  do  not  question  me,  but  give  me  food. 
I — I  feel  strangely — I  am " 

"  She  is  fainting,"  said  the  inan ;  "  I  will  bring  her 
a  glass  of  water." 

The  woman  looked  at  Vivienne  closely  and  said : 

"  Your  pretty  face  ought  to  win  you  bread,  if  not 
jewels.  You  are  a  fool  to  go  begging,  with  such  beauty 
as  yours.  If  I  had  your  face  and  form  I  would  ride  in 
my  carriage.  There  would  be  no  more  house  drudgery 
for  me." 

Vivienne  drank  the  water,  which  was  cool  and  re- 
freshing. A  little  girl,  who  had  been  regarding  her 
from  the  opposite  side  of  the  road,  came  running  across 
and  said: 


290  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  Come  with  me,  poor  woman.  My  mamma  is  away, 
but  cook  will  give  you  something  to  eat.  She  is  good 
to  everybody,  and  so  is  my  mamma.     Come !  " 

"  Bless  you,  sweet  child !  "  said  Vivienne,  rising. 

The  woman  resented  the  child's  interference :  "  You 
are  a  forward  little  minx !  As  though  I  would  refuse 
her  food !     Come  in,  and  I  will  give  you  all  you  want." 

Vivienne  looked  at  the  woman,  her  great  black  eyes 
full  of  the  loathing  she  felt. 

"  After  what  you  have  said  ?  IsTo,  madame,  food 
from  your  hands  would  choke  me." 

Vivienne  turned  away,  took  the  little  girl's  hand,  and 
they  walked  slowly  towards  the  pretty  little  cottage  to 
which  the  child  pointed,  saying  over  and  over  again: 
"  That's  where  mamma  lives." 

Vivienne  had  no  sooner  reached  the  house  where  she 
had  been  promised  food  and  rest  than  her  head  swam, 
she  lost  consciousness,  and  fell  helpless  upon  the  floor. 
When  she  revived  she  heard  the  sound  of  voices.  She 
opened  her  eyes  and  saw  that  she  was  in  a  darkened 
room.  An  old  gentleman  sat  beside  her,  while  a  lady, 
with  a  kind,  motherly  look  upon  her  face,  stood  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed  regarding  her. 

"  You  are  better,  my  dear.  The  doctor,  here,  said 
that  if  you  awoke  in  your  right  mind  all  would  be  well. 
You  are  better,  are  you  not  ?  " 

Vivienne  could  not  resist  answering  a  question  put  so 
pleasantly. 

"  I  am  feeling  quite  well,  madame,"  she  replied. 
Then  in  an  instant  all  came  back  to  her.  She  raised 
herself  in  bed  and  cried: 

"  Where  am  I  ?  Have  I  been  sick  ?  Eor  God's  sake, 
dear  lady,  tell  me  how  long  I  have  been  here." 

"  My  little  daughter  brought  you  here  three  days 
ago,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Three  days !  Three  days ! !  "  moaned  Vivienne. 
"  It  is  too  late  now.     He  is  dead — dead  1 " 


TO  THE  RESCUE!  291 

"But  you  are  living,"  said  the  doctor.  "Who  ia 
dead  '<     I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Vivienne,  "  I  must  tell  you  all,  for  I 
know  that  I  can  trust  you.  If  T  do  not^  you  will  not 
know  what  I  mean.  I  am  Vivienne  Batistelli,  of 
Alfieri." 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  the  lady  in  an  undertone. 

"  You  know  of  the  vendetta  between  the  Batistellis 
and  the  Delia  Coscias  ?  " 

The  doctor  nodded. 

"  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia  came  back  to  Corsica. 
His  identity  was  discovered  by  my  brother  Pascal. 
Vandemar  has  been  in  the  dungeon  chamber  for  five 
days  without  food  or  drink.  I  am  the  only  one  who 
can  open  the  dungeon  door  and  release  him.  I  must  go 
to  him  at  once.  Help  me  I  Help  me ! !  He  must  not 
die!" 

"  What  can  we  do.  Doctor  ?  "  asked  the  lady. 

"  My  horse  and  carriage  are  at  the  door.  My  dear 
young  lady,  get  ready  at  once,  and  I  will  take  you  to 
Alfieri." 

When  Vivienne  reached  the  castle,  she  at  once  sought 
Clarine,  who  was  overjoyed  at  seeing  her  again. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  "  she  asked,  excitedly. 

"  I  cannot  stop  to  tell  you  now,"  said  Vivienne. 
"  Where  is  my  brother  Pascal  ?  " 

"  That  I  do  not  know,"  was  the  reply.  "  He  has 
gone  away." 

"  Oh,  Clarine,"  said  Vivienne,  "  I  must  open  the 
door  of  the  dungeon  chamber,  but  I  have  lost  the  paper 
that  you  gave  me.     Have  you  found  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,"  said  Clarine,  "  but  I  surmise,  from 
what  he  has  let  drop,  that  Manassa  knows  something 
about  it." 

"  Where  can  I  find  him  ?  "  asked  Vivienne. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Clarine,  "  but  if  he  has  it  he 
will  not  give  it  to  you.     He  says  you  are  no  longer  a 


292  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Batistelli — ^that  you  love  a  Delia  Coscia  and  have  dis- 
graced your  name." 

"  Oh,  Clarine,  I  shall  pray  to  God  to  give  me  back 
my  memory,  so  that  I  may  open  that  door  and  save  his 
life "  and  she  ran  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

"  WE  WILL  DIE   TOGETHEK  I  " 

ViviENNE  went  from  room  to  room,  calling  loudly  for 
Manassa,  but  there  was  no  answer.  Espying  Terence 
at  work  in  the  garden,  she  asked  him  if  he  had  seen 
Manassa.  He  answered  her  politely  in  the  negative, 
but  said,  in  an  undertone: 

"  No,  the  old  omadhaun ;  an'  may  the  divil  fly  away 
wid  him  before  I  do." 

At  last  Vivienne  reached  the  foot  of  the  long  flight 
of  stone  steps  that  led  to  the  Hall  of  Mirrors.  She 
sank  down  exhausted ;  she  was  unused  to  such  great 
physical  exertion,  besides  being  almost  mentally  dis- 
tracted when  she  thought  how  powerless  she  was  to  save 
Vandemar  without  the  help  of  one  who,  she  knew,  hated 
him  as  intensely  as  did  her  own  brother. 

At  length,  she  arose  and,  going  to  an  open  window, 
again  called  loudly  for  Manassa;  but  there  was  no  re- 
sponse. Sick  at  heart,  she  turned  away  from  the  win- 
dow and  went  slowly  up  the  steps. 

At  sight  of  the  closed  door  of  the  dungeon  chamber, 
her  forced  composure  gave  way.  She  ran  to  it  and 
beat  wildly  against  it  until  the  blood  oozed  through  the 
tender  skin ;  then  she  sank  upon  her  knees.  She  raised 
her  clasped  hands  to  Heaven  and  cried : 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu!  Give  me  back  my  memory  but 
for  one  moment.  Pardon  me,  mon  Dieu,  not  for  what 
I  say,  but  for  the  way  I  say  it  I  learned  the  instruc- 
tions in  the  paper  by  heart,  but  tliey  called  me  mad,  and 
I  have  forgotten  them.     Then  I  fell  sick,  and  all  is  a 

293 


294  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

blank.  Oh,  mon  Dieu,  give  me  back  my  memory,  that 
I  may  save  a  precious  life.  Oh,  my  dear  father  in 
heaven,  entreat  the  good  God,  who  is  God  of  Love  and 
Mercy,  to  help  me !  " 

Full  of  her  simple  faith,  she  arose  and  stood  before 
the  door,  as  though  expecting  to  see  it  open  of  its  own 
accord;  but  there  it  stood,  immovable,  relentless, 
merciless.  She  regarded  it  for  a  time  with  a  helpless, 
dazed  look.  Then  there  came  a  revulsion,  and  the 
weak  woman,  with  a  feeble  voice,  was  transformed  into, 
a  new  creature;  for  the  time  being  she  was  mad,  and, 
with  that  madness  came  the  fictitious  physical  and 
mental  strength,  the  showing  of  which  deceives  all  but 
those  who  are  acquainted  with  such  manifestations  of 
mania. 

"  I  must  open  it,"  she  cried ;  "  I  will !  I  will ! !  Oh, 
father !  father ! !  Clarine !  Clarine ! !  Where  are  you  ? 
Where  is  Manassa?  He  is  lost — lost!  Come  listen, 
Clarine — come !  Pive  days,  Clarine,  five  long  days  and 
nights!  Dear  God,  one  long  night — one  hundred  and 
twenty  hours  of  darkness ;  no  food,  no  drink,  and  naught 
but  the  cold  stones  to  lie  upon. 

"  I  see  him  now,  with  his  eyes  turned  towards  that 
merciless  door;  watching,  praying  for  the  ray  of  light 
that  never  comes;  waiting  for  the  sound  of  the  voice 
that  promised  to  save  him ;  listening  for  the  step  he  can 
never  hear. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  go  mad !  Mad ! !  Vandemar !  Vande- 
mar ! !  It  is  I,  Vivienne.  I  have  come  to  save  you, 
but  the  cruel  walls  will  not  let  me  in.  Speak  to  me, 
Vandemar.  Tell  me  that  you  live.  I  am  coming — 
coming !  " 

Again  she  struck  the  wall,  frantically,  with  her  bleed- 
ing hands : 

"  He  is  dead !  I  see  him — ^I  see  the  black,  crawling 
things — ^they  are  fighting  over  him — they  are  feeding 
upon  his  forehead — back,  back,  back  I     Back,  I  say! 


«WE  WILL  DIE  TOGETHER!"         295 

They  are  tearing  his  flesh — hark!  They  are  feasting 
royally.  No,  no,  no!  Spare  him — spare  him!  He 
is  mine,  mine !  " 

She  stamped  her  feet  upon  the  stone  floor:  "I  will 
crush  you,  you  ravenous  reptiles,  deapoilers  of  the 
dead ;  cold,  venomous  worms !  Brush  them  away,  Van- 
demar!  Keep  them  back,  beloved,  for  I  am  coming 
— coming  to  save  you." 

Again,  as  though  under  the  influence  of  an  ungovern- 
able passion,  she  struck  the  wall  until  the  sense  of  in- 
tense pain  obliged  her  to  desist  Then  came  another  re- 
vulsion. From  a  state  of  exaltation,  she  fell  into  one 
approaching  stupor,  and  for  some  time  seemed  uncon- 
scious of  her  surroundings,  of  time,  and  of  the  terrible 
errand  which  had  brought  her  there.  Was  this  con- 
dition of  quietude  to  be  followed  by  another  outburst 
of  passion,  or  was  she  so  exhausted  that  further  effort 
would  be  impossible? 

Suddenly,  she  awoke  from  her  lethargy  and  listened 
intently.  No,  yes  it  was — she  could  not  be  mistaken — 
the  sound  of  footsteps  upon  the  stone  stairway.  Hope 
revived.  Clarine  had  found  Manassa  and  had  sent  him 
to  open  the  door  for  her.  But  would  he?  He  hated 
Vandemar.  Perhaps  he  was  coming  only  for  the  pur- 
pose of  finding  out  if  his  enemy  were  dead.  Madness 
always  engenders  suspicion.  She  would  be  cautious. 
If  he  opened  the  door,  she  would  force  him  to  let  her 
in.  She  would  fly  to  Vandemar — nothing  should 
prevent  her. 

Behind  one  of  the  mirrors  which,  when  thrown  back, 
exposed  the  door  of  the  dungeon  chamber,  Vivienne  hid 
herself. 

Pascal  Batistelli  was  a  brave  man.  He  preferred 
to  carry  out  his  purposes  by  diplomacy  rather  than  war- 
fare, but  it  was  only  natural,  after  the  tragic  events 
svhich  had  deprived  him  of  both  a  friend  and  a  brother, 


296  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

that  his  heart  should  be  filled  with  thoughts  of  vengeance 
— and,  to  a  Corsican,  vengeance  and  death  are  closely 
related  terms.  Yandemar  was  in  the  dungeon  chamber 
and  his  death  from  starvation  was  certain.  Vivienne 
was  securely  locked  up  in  a  madhouse  and  could  not  in- 
terfere with  his  plans.  But  there  was  one  man,  still 
living,  who  must  die  before  his  vengeance  would  be  com- 
plete, so  he  gathered  a  large  body  of  his  adherents  and 
started  out  in  quest  of  Cromillian. 

Old  Manassa  was  a  curious  individual.  At  times, 
he  seemed  to  be  in  his  dotage,  his  memory  gone,  while 
his  words  were  often  childish  and,  more  often,  foolish. 
At  other  times,  he  seemed  to  have  recovered  all  his 
youthful  shrewdness  and  sagacity.  He  constantly  be- 
Availed  the  passing  of  the  "  good  old  times,"  and  often 
declared  himself  more  worthy  to  be  the  head  of  the 
Batistelli  family  than  Pascal,  whom  he  looked  upon  as 
the  degenerate  son  of  a  noble  sire. 

Xow  that  Pascal  was  away,  Manassa  assumed  all  the 
airs,  and,  also,  the  powers  of  the  lord  of  the  manor. 
He  considered  that  the  honour  of  the  Batistelli  family 
was  in  his  keeping  and  gloried  in  the  fact  that  his 
enemy  was  in  the  dungeon  chamber,  condemned  to  a 
slow  and  horrible  death  from  star\'^ation. 

Manassa  was  not  only  revengeful,  but  vindictive. 
He  was  not  satisfied  to  allow  his  enemy  to  die  in  peace, 
even  by  slow  torture.  !No,  he  would  tempt  him,  taunt 
him,  and  then  revile  him.  These  acts  would  make  his 
vengeance  more  satisfactory.  So,  he  filled  a  basket 
with  the  most  enticing  food  that  he  could  find,  put  in 
a  bottle  of  choice  wine,  and  then  made  his  way  to  the 
Hall  of  Mirrors. 

Vivienne  could  hardly  refrain  from  uttering  an  ex- 
clamation of  delight  when  she  saw  him  bearing  the  bas- 
ket of  food.  Manassa  was  a  good  man,  he  was  merci- 
ful, he  had  relented,  and  Vandemar  was  saved!     She 


"WE  WILL  DIE  TOGETHER!"  297 

would  have  sprung  forward  and  embraced  him,  so  great 
was  her  joy,  but  there  was  a  look  on  his  face  which 
chilled  her  blood,  and  she  stood  as  if  frozen  to  the  spot. 
His  expression  was  demoniac — but  for  what  purpose 
had  he  brought  the  food?  "With  every  sense  alert, 
Vivienne  watched  and  listened. 

Manassa  placed  the  basket  upon  the  floor,  then  took 
a  piece  of  paper  from  his  pocket — the  instructions  for 
opening  the  door  of  the  dungeon  chamber !  Should  she 
rush  from  her  hiding-place,  tear  it  from  him,  and  open 
the  door  herself  ?  'No,  she  would  let  him  do  that  She 
would  save  what  strength  she  had  for  what  might  come 
afterward. 

With  much  difficulty,  Manassa  succeeded  in  opening 
the  door : 

"  Vandemar !  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia !  I  have 
brought  you  some  food  and  a  nice  bottle  of  wine.  You 
must  be  hungry.  Come  and  eat"  The  words  were 
spoken  in  a  taunting  tone,  which  belied  their  meaning. 
There  was  no  response,  and  the  old  man  laughed,  mock- 
ingly. 

"  If  I  were  not  so  old,"  said  he,  "  I  would  bring  it  to 
you ;  but,  if  you  cannot  come  for  it,  you  will  have  to  go 
without  it.  I  am  so  sorry,  my  good  Vandemar,  for  I 
am  sure  you  must  be  very  hungry." 

After  hearing  these  sarcastic  words  and,  again,  that 
horrible,  mocking  laugh,  Vivienne  could  restrain  herself 
no  longer.  With  a  cry  like  that  of  a  tigress,  she  leaped 
^  upon  old  Manassa  and  hurled  him  to  the  floor.  He 
was  stunned  by  the  fall  and  lay  motionless.  Vivienne 
took  up  the  basket  of  food  and  tried  to  carry  it,  but  her 
strength  failed  her  and  she  was  obliged  to  put  it  down 
upon  the  floor  again.  Then  she  grasped  one  side  of  it 
and  was  pulling  it  towards  the  dungeon  door,  when 
Manassa  revived  and  saw  who  his  assailant  had  been. 
He  quickly  divined  her  evident  purpose  to  take  the  food 
to  Vandemar.     He  did  not  try  to  regain  his  feet,  but 


298  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

crawled  upon  his  hands  and  knees  until  he  was  able  to 
grasp  the  other  side  of  the  basket. 

It  was  literally  a  contest  for  life  or  death — to  Van- 
demar.  Manassa  was  the  stronger,  and  Vivienne  felt 
herself  being  drawn  slowly  away  from  the  dungeon 
door.  In  her  fury,  she  drew  from  her  bosom  the  sti- 
letto which  she  had  taken  from  Madeline  Villefort  and, ' 
making  a  desperate  lunge,  stabbed  Manassa  in  the  arm. 
With  a  cry  of  pain,  he  released  his  hold  upon  the  basket. 
Vivienne,  full  of  exultation,  dragged  it  along  the  stone 
floor  and  pulled  it  into  the  dungeon  chamber. 
i  Manassa  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  stood,  for  a 
moment,  uncertain  what  course  to  pursue.  Then  that 
look  of  demoniac  wickedness,  which  had  so  startled 
Vivienne,  came  into  his  face  again.  He  chuckled — a 
savage,  unearthly  sound: 

"  She  loves  her  enemy.  She  is  no  longer  a  Batistelli, 
but  a  Delia  Coscia — and  she  shall  die  with  him!  " 

Summoning  all  his  strength,  he  closed  the  great  door, 
and  then,  with  the  blood  streaming  from  his  wound, 
shambled  from  the  room.  Again  that  mocking  laugh 
and  those  revengeful  words : 

"  She  is  no  longer  a  Batistelli — she  is  a  Delia 
Coscia.     She  shall  die  with  him !  " 

When  Vivienne  entered  the  dungeon  chamber,  her 
thoughts  were  of  Vandemar,  and  of  him  alone.  Was 
he  alive  or  dead?  The  darkness  was  so  intense  that 
she  could  discern  nothing.  Where  was  he?  She 
listened  for  some  sound  which  might  indicate  in  what 
part  of  the  room  he  was.  When  the  great  door  was 
closed  behind  her  by  Manassa,  she  had  not  heard.  She 
stood  irresolute,  not  knowing  in  which  direction  to  pro- 
ceed. Her  eyes  becoming  accustomed  to  the  darkness, 
she  perceived  a  faint  ray  of  light  piercing  the  gloom. 

"  Vandemar,"  she  cried,  "  are  you  there,  near  the 
light?" 


"WE  WILL  DIE  TOGETHER!"  299 

[Although  there  was  no  response  to  her  question,  she 
made  her  way  towards  the  beam  of  light,  the  only  sign, 
of  hope  in  what  she  feared — and  that  fear  made  her 
hold  her  breath — was  the  chamber  of  death. 

Suddenly,  her  foot  struck  against  something.  She 
reached  down  and  placed  her  hand  upon  it.  It  was  the 
body  of  a  man — it  must  be  that  of  Vandemar.  She 
longed  to  give  relief  to  her  pent-up  feelings — she  could 
have  screamed  with  delight  at  finding  him — but  no,  that 
would  do  no  good.  If  he  were  alive,  he  must  have  wine 
and  food. 

She  placed  her  hand  upon  his  heart ;  it  was  beating, 
though  but  faintly.  She  knelt — she  could  feel  his 
breath  upon  her  cheek — he  was  alive !  With  a  loud  cry 
of  joy  which  she  could  not  repress,  she  leaped  to  her  feet. 
Wandering  aimlessly  for  a  while,  she  sought  in- 
effectually for  the  basket  of  food.  Again  guided  by  the 
ray  of  light,  she  made  her  way  back  to  where  Vandemar 
lay.  Following  along  by  the  wall,  which  she  touched 
lightly  with  her  hands,  she  came  to  the  comer  opposite 
the  small  window.  Still  keeping  close  to  the  wall,  she 
reached  the  dungeon  door.  There  she  stopped  to  col- 
lect her  thoughts ;  but,  even  then,  it  did  not  occur  to  her 
that  the  door  was  closed;  and,  if  it  had,  her  memory 
would  not  have  told  her  that  there  was  no  way  of  open- 
ing it  from  the  inside. 

In  her  mind  there  was  but  one  thought,  one  desire — 
to  find  the  food  and  wine.  Although  Manassa  had 
brought  it  only  to  tantalise  the  helpless  prisoner,  in  her 
heart  she  almost  forgave  him,  for  it  meant  life — and 
with  life  would  come  safety— for  Vandemar,  her  be- 
loved. 

Feeling  that  every  moment  was  precious,  she  resumed 
her  search  and  soon  stumbled  over  the  basket,^  which 
she  had  left  not  ten  feet  from  the  door.  Keeping  her 
eyes  upon  the  ray  of  light,  which  was  her  guiding  star, 
she  pulled  the  basket  across  the  stone  floor  until  she 


300  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

once  more  came  in   contact  with  the  almost  lifeless 
form. 

She  remembered  that  she  had  read  somewhere  that 
but  little  food,  at  first,  should  be  given  to  starving  per- 
sons, but  the  wine — there  was  life  in  that !  The  bottle 
was  tightly  corked  and  she  could  not  open  it.  She. 
struck  it  against  the  stone  wall  and  the  neck  fell  to  the 
floor.  She  dipped  her  fingers  in  the  wine  and  wet  Van- 
demar's  lips  with  it.  There  was  bread  in  the  basket. 
She  moistened  it  with  the  wine  and,  raising  his 
head  from  the  floor,  fed  him  as  she  would  have  a 
child. 

Vivienne  could  not  see  his  face,  for  the  ray  of  light 
did  not  reach  the  dark  comer  beneath  the  window,  but 
the  bread  and  wine  did  their  good  work,  and  Vandemar, 
reviving,  heard  the  soft  tones  of  a  woman's  voice — a 
voice  which  kept  repeating : 

"  Vandemar,  come  back  to  me.  Vandemar,  you  are 
saved.     It  is  I,  Vivienne." 

There  was  more  inspiration,  more  strength,  in  that 
voice  than  bread  or  wane  could  give. 

"  Vi\'ienne  ?  Is  it  really  you,  Vivienne  ?  Have  the 
guests  all  left  the  castle  ?  May  I  go  now  ?  The  Ad- 
miral and  his  daughter  and  I  are  going  back  to  the  ship 
to-night.  What  time  is  it  ?  I  must  have  fallen  asleep. 
I  tried  to  keep  awake  because  you  said  you  would  come 
for  me." 

"  I  have  come,  as  I  promised  I  would,"  she  said.  "  I 
have  brought  you  wine  and  food.  You  must  drink  some 
of  the  wine  and,  when  you  feel  stronger,  you  may  have 
something  to  eat ;  but  not  very  much,  for  your  fast  has 
been  a  long  one  and  it  would  not  be  safe  to  eat  too 
heartily." 

The  stimulant  warmed  him  and  sent  the  life-blood 
eoursing  through  his  veins  He  sat  upright,  without 
support,  and  when  he  spoke,  his  voice  was  stronger  and 
fuller.     Then  he  seemed  to  remember  what  he  had  at 


«WE  WILL  DIE  TOGETHER!"         301 

first  forgotten — that  many  days,  and  not  one  night,  had 
elapsed  since  he  had  entered  the  dungeon. 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  "  I  have  had  both  food  and  drink.  I 
have  not  suffered  for  want  of  either.  My  wound  gave 
me  a  fever.  That  is  what  has  made  me  so  weak,  but  I 
shall  soon  be  well,  and  we  will  leave  this  place." 

"  Yes,  Vandemar,  we  will  go.  But  tell  me,  for  I 
cannot  understand,  how  did  you  get  both  food  and 
drink?" 

"  I  have  not  been  alone,"  said  Vandemar.  "  I  have 
had  some  good  friends.  They  came  at  night — it  has 
been  all  night  here — and  fetched  me  kernels  of  corn — 
and  once  they  brought  an  egg.  That  saved  my  life. 
They  were  so  tame,  too.  It  was  so  dark  they  could  not 
see  me.  Perhaps  they  thought  I  was  one  of  them — so 
old  and  feeble  that  I  could  not  go  with  them  to  the 
kitchen  to  get  my  own  food." 

"  But  the  drink  ?  "  cried  Vivienne.  "  How  did  you 
get  anything  to  drink  ?  The  rats  could  not  bring  water 
to  you." 

"  No,"  said  Vandemar,  "  I  had  to  get  that  myself, 
and  that  was  much  harder.  It  rained  one  night  and 
some  drops  were  blown  in  at  the  window  and  fell  upon 
me.  I  was  feverish  and  knew  that  I  must  have  water. 
I  tore  my  sword  scarf  into  strips  and  knotted  them  to- 
gether. Then  I  tied  one  end  to  the  sleeve  of  my  coat 
and  finally  succeeded  in  throwing  it  so  that  it  lodged 
between  the  window-bars.  When  it  was  saturated,  I 
pulled  it  down,  wnmg  it  and  drank  my  fill." 

"  Do  you  feel  stronger  ?  "  asked  Vivienne. 

"  "Why,  yes.  I  am  almost  as  good  as  ever.  I  must 
have  been  asleep  when  you  came  in.  I  had  a  bad 
dream.  I  thought  your  brother  sent  you  away  from 
the  Castle  so  that  you  could  not  come  and  let  me  out" 

"He  did,"  cried  Vi\aenne,  "and  for  that  I  shall 
never  forgive  him.  He  told  Doctor  Procida  that  I  was 
mad,  and  they  took  me  to  the  lunatic  asylum  at  Salva- 


302  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

netra,  but  I  escaped  the  next  day.  Then  I  fell  ill  and, 
for  three  days,  I  knew  nothing.  To-day  is  the  fifth 
day  and  I  thought  you  must  be  dead,  for  I  had  not  faith 
enough  in  God  to  believe  that  He  would  send  His 
dumb  creatures  to  feed  you  and  rain  from  Heaven 
for  you  to  drink.  I  have  been  so  wicked — ^but  now  that 
God  in  His  mercy  has  brought  us  together  again,  we 
will  be  good — ^will  we  not,  Vandemar  ?  " 

"  Give  me  more  of  that  wine,  Vivienne.  It  is  very 
good,  and  you  are  the  best  woman  I  ever  knew.  With 
good  wine  and  a  good  woman,  no  man  should  be  bad." 

"  Hush,  Yandemar,"  said  Vivienne ;  "  do  not  speak 
so.  We  should  be  good  because  we  ought  to  be  and 
not  because  we  get  what  we  wish  for.  Come,  come, 
let  us  be  going.  My  brother  is  away  and  you  must  get 
to  a  place  of  safety  before  he  returns.  Give  me  your 
hand.  I  will  lead  you,  for  I  know  how  to  find  the 
door." 

When  they  reached  it,  the  terrible  truth  dawned 
upon  her.  She  stood  rooted  to  the  spot — she  could 
not  speak. 

''  Open  the  door  quickly,  Vivienne,"  he  said,  and  he 
had  never  spoken  so  gently  before.  "  This  has  been  a 
long  night,  Vivienne,  and  my  couch  was  not  a  soft  one. 
Open  the  door,  for  I  yearn  to  see  the  blue  sky,  the  trees, 
and  the  flowers,  and  hear  the  songs  of  birds.  Then, 
too,  I  would  look  out  upon  the  water  and  see  my  good 
ship  riding  at  anchor.  How  glad  the  Admiral  will  be 
to  see  me,  and  how  interested  Helen  will  be  to  hear  of 
my  adventures — and  how  Heaven  sent  my  good  angel 
to  rescue  me  and  make  me  happy  for  life.  I  will  take 
you  to  England,  Vivienne,  where  there  is  no  cruel  ven- 
detta— ^but  why  do  you  not  open  the  door  ?  " 

"  My  God !  "  she  cried,  and  her  voice  was  tense  with 
pain,  "  I  cannot." 

^'  Let  me  try,"  he  said,  "  i  am  stronger  than  you  are. 
Tell  me  how  to  open  it." 


"WE  WILL  DIE  TOGETHER!"         303 

"  "We  are  lost !  "  she  moaned.  "  I  had  forgotten — 
the  door  cannot  be  opened  from  the  inside." 

"What?  You  forgot?  We  are  lost?"  There 
was  passion,  suspicion,  despair,  in  the  words. 

"  I  left  it  open  when  I  came  in.  Some  one  must 
have  closed  it." 

"  Some  one  must  have  closed  it  ?  "  His  voice  was 
harsh,  and  there  was  unbelief  in  the  question.  "  Speak, 
Vivienne,  who  could  have  closed  it?  Who  was  with 
you  ?  You  said  your  brother  had  gone  away,  and  even 
he  would  not  close  a  dungeon  door  upon  his  only 
sister," 

"  I  will  tell  you  all,"  she  said,  piteously. 

"  I  think  the  time  has  come,"  was  the  stem  reply. 

"  Pascal  took  the  paper  from  me,  which  told  how  to 
open  the  door,  and  tore  it  in  pieces.  I  had  learned  the 
instructions  by  heart  before  they  took  me  to  the  asylum, 
but  when  I  came  back  my  memory  was  gone.  I  should 
have  died  outside  the  door,  and  you  would  have  perished 
in  here,  had  not  Old  Manassa  brought  a  basket  of  food. 
He  did  not  mean  to  give  it  to  you,  for  he  hates  you 
because  you  are  a  Delia  Coscia.  He  came  to  taunt  you, 
but  I  sprang  upon  him  and  stabbed  him  with  my  sti- 
letto. I  wrenched  the  basket  from  him.  After  I  came 
in,  he  must  have  closed  the  door.  Oh,  Vandemar! 
After  all  our  pain  and  suffering,  to  have  it  end 
thus!" 

There  was  silence  for  a  time,  then  Vandemar  spoke, 
but  there  were  no  love  tones  in  his  voice : 

"Does  no  one  know  that  you  are  here?  Did  you 
not  tell  some  one  that  you  were  coming  to  release  me  ?  " 

"  As  I  came  through  the  garden,  some  one  called  my 
name,  but  I  do  not  know  who  it  was.  I  did  not  look. 
I  thought  only  of  you,  I  wished  only  to  see  you,  for  I 
would  give  my  life  to  save  you,  Vandemar— but  you  do 
not  believe  me,  you  do  not  trust  me,  you  do  not  love 
me '' 


304  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Vandemar  put  his  arms  about  the  weeping  girl  and 
drew  her  close  to  him. 

"  Forgive  me,  Vivienne ;  I  am  racked  in  mind  and 
body,  and  am  not  myself.  What  I  said  just  now  was 
unjust  and  unkind  to  you.  Believe  me,  dear  one,  the 
Vandemar  that  was,  would  never  have  harboured  a 
thought  or  spoken  a  word  to  bring  tears  to  those  sweet 
eyes.  I  cannot  see  them,  but  I  know  they  are  filled 
with  the  love-light  which  neither  time  nor  death  can 
dim.  Do  you  not  believe,  Vivienne,  that,  if  God 
wishes  us  to  live  and  be  happy  together  in  this  world, 
He  will  send  us  help  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  said  Vivienne.  "  We  will  hope  on,  will  we 
not,  Vandemar?  We  have  food  and  wine,  your  little 
friends  will  bring  us  com  and  eggs,  and  the  good  God 
will  send  us  rain  that  we  may  drink.  I  am  with  you, 
and  you  with  me.  We  can  love  each  other  as  well  in 
this  dark  dungeon  as  we  could  if  we  sat  beneath  the 
trees,  with  the  birds  singing  above  us.  That  love  will 
bless  us,  and  if  no  one  comes  to  save  us,  you  will  kiss 
me  for  the  last  time,  tell  me  that  you  love  me,  and, 
clasped  in  each  other's  arms,  we  will  die  together ! " 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

A  DOUBLE  VENDETTA. 

Pascal  Batistelli  and  his  adherents  were  unsuc- 
cessful in  their  search  for  Cromillian  and  his  moral 
bandits.  If  they  had  not  been  looking  for  each  other, 
they  might  have  met,  for  while  Pascal  sought  for  Cro- 
millian in  the  maquis,  the  bandit  chief,  with  a  picked 
body  of  men.  Jack  De  Vinne  being  one  of  the  company, 
was  on  his  way  to  Batistelli  Castle  with  the  fixed  de- 
termination of  finding  Vandemar,  or  of  exacting  stern 
retribution  if  the  young  man  had  been  foully  dealt  with. 

Pascal  dismissed  his  followers,  telling  them  that  they 
must  go  home  and  take  needed  rest,  for  he  should  soon 
call  upon  them  again.  He  maintained  his  usual  com- 
posure before  them,  but,  after  their  departure,  in  the 
solitude  of  his  library,  he  felt  utterly  disheartened. 
Then  his  thoughts  turned  to  Manassa,  and  he  sent 
Adolphe  to  summon  his  old  retainer. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  cried  Pascal,  as  the  old  man 
entered.  "  What  has  happened  to  you  ?  Why  is  your 
arm  bound  up?  There  is  blood  upon  your  clothing." 
He  paused.  "  Has  Vandemar  escaped  ?  Sit  down, 
Manassa,  and  tell  me  who  did  this." 

The  old  man  seated  himself. 

"  Vandemar  has  not  escaped,"  he  began.  "  He  is  safe 
in  the  dungeon — "  he  gave  a  low  chuckle — "  but  he  is 
not  alone." 

"  Not  alone  ?  "  cried  Pascal.  "  Who  is  with  him  ? 
Come,  quick,  tell  me  all,"  and,  unthinkingly,  he  grasped 
Manassa's  wounded  arm,  making  him  wince  with  pain. 

"  It  is  a  long  story,"  said  Manassa,  "  and  I  don't 
know  just  how  to  put  it  together.     I  thought  that  Van- 
SOS 


306  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

demar  might  be  hungry,  having  had  nothing  to  eat  for 
five  days,  so  I  took  him  a  basket  of  food  and  a  bottle  of 
good  wine." 

"  You  fool !  "  cried  Pascal.  Then  he  remembered. 
"  "VMiat  was  there  in  that  ?  You  could  not  open  the 
dungeon  door." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  could."  The  old  man  chuckled  again. 
''  I  was  in  the  Hall  of  Mirrors  when  you  tore  up  that 
paper.  After  all  of  you  were  gone,  before  I  put  out  the 
lights,  I  picked  up  the  pieces  and  pasted  them  together. 
Nobody  knows  I  have  it  but  Vivienne." 

"  Vivienne  ?  How  could  she  know  anything  about  it, 
locked  up  at  Salvanetra  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  was  locked  up,"  mused  the  old  man.  "  I 
don't  know  how  she  got  away,  but  she  did." 

Pascal  started  to  his  feet.  "  Vivienne  here  ?  Where 
is  she?  Did  you  give  her  the  food  to  take  to  Vande- 
mar  ?     I  thought  you  were  a  friend  to  the  Batistellis." 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  give  it  to  her,"  and  Manassa  wrung 
his  hands,  apologetically ;  "  I  didn't  mean  to  give  it  to 
him.  I  had  opened  the  door,  was  telling  him  what  nice 
things  I  had  for  him, — ^just  to  make  him  feel  hungrier 
than  ever, — when  Vivienne  came  from  behind  one  of  the 
mirrors  and  caught  at  the  basket.  Just  as  I  was  getting 
it  away  from  her,  she  drew  a  stiletto  and  stabbed  me 
here,"  and  he  placed  his  hand  upon  his  wounded  arm. 
"  I  fell,  and  before  I  could  get  up  again,  she  had 
dragged  the  basket  of  food  into  the  dungeon  chamber." 

"  What  did  you  do  then  ? "  asked  Pascal,  excitedly. 

"  I  did  as  I  thought  you  would  have  done — I  shut 
the  door  and  left  them  there  together.  She  is  no  longer 
a  Batistelli — she  is  a  Delia  Coscia.  Let  them  die  to- 
gether !  " 

"  You  were  right,  Manassa.  I  should  have  done  as 
you  did.     But  where  is  the  paper  ?  " 

"  Here  it  is,"  and  Manassa  passed  it  to  him. 

"  Come  with  me,  Manassa,"  said  Pascal.     "  She  is 


A  DOUBLE  VENDETTA.  307 

my  sister — a  poor,  weak,  foolish  woman.  It  is  my 
duty  to  give  her  one  more  chance  to  repent  of  her  folly, 
and  I  must  have  a  witness." 

"  Vivienne,  are  you  there  ?  " 

There  were  tones  in  her  brother's  voice  which  the 
yoimg  girl  could  not  mistake.  The  prisoners  had  gone 
back  to  the  corner  beneath  the  window,  for  the  friendly 
ray  of  light  made  the  dungeon  seem  less  like  a  tomb. 

Vivienne  sprang  to  her  feet  "  Yes,  Pascal,  I  am 
here,"  she  cried,  joyfully,  "  and  Vandemar  is  so  strong 
now  that  he  can  walk." 

"  Come  here  to  the  door,"  said  Pascal. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  when  she  reached  it. 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  her  brother. 

"  I  will  bring  Vandemar." 

"  'No,"  said  Pascal,  "  if  you  come  out  you  shall  come 
alone.     You  must  renounce  that  man." 

"  Then  I  will  not  come,"  said  Vivienne,  positively. 
"  I  love  him.  We  will  either  live  together  or  die  to- 
gether." 

"  Is  that  your  final  answer  ? "  questioned  Pascal, 
angrily. 

"  It  is,"  she  said. 

He  drew  his  stiletto. 

"  I  do  not  fear  that,"  she  cried.  "  You  may  kill  me, 
but  I  will  give  you  no  other  answer.  I  will  not  leave 
here  without  Vandemar." 

While  they  had  been  talking  Pascal  had  stepped 
within  the  dimgeon  door,  still  holding  the  paper. 

"So  be  it!  "he  cried. 

An  instant  later  the  door  was  closed  and  Vivienne 
knew  that  she  and  Vandemar  were  doomed  to  a  linger- 
ing death. 

Manassa  had  been  an  interested  observer:  "I  was 
right,  was  I  not,  master  ?  She  is  no  longer  a  Batistelli 
—she  is  a  Delia  Coscia.     Let  them  die  together." 


308  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  Let  them  die  together,"  echoed  Pascal,  but  althougH 
he  spoke  the  words,  he  knew  that  they  did  not  come 
from  his  heart. 

"  Master,  where  is  the  paper  ?  " 

Pascal  searched  his  garments ;  then  thej  both  looked 
in  every  direction,  but  it  could  not  be  found.  A  feeling 
of  remorse  seized  Pascal.  He  had  not  meant  to  go  so 
far.  He  knew  that  they  had  food  and  he  would  have 
come  again.  He  wished  for  Vandemar's  death,  but  if 
he  did  not  love  her,  he  was  proud  of  his  sister.  Now 
she  must  die,  and  by  his  hand. 

"  Have  you  found  the  paper  ?  "  the  old  man  asked 
again. 

"  I  must  have  dropped  it  as  I  came  out  of  the  dun- 
geon, and  the  great  door  closed  over  it." 

"  That  is  good,"  said  Manassa.  "  Then  the  vendetta 
is  ended.  A  life  for  a  life.  Two  Delia  Coscias  for  one 
Batistelli — for  she  is  no  longer  a  Batistelli." 

"  Come,  Manassa,  you  will  bear  witness  that  I  gave 
her  a  chance  for  life." 

As  Pascal  turned  to  leave  the  Hall  of  Mirrors,  to  his 
surprise  he  was  confronted  by  Cromillian.  Pascal  was 
filled  with  fury  at  the  sight  of  him. 

"  What  brings  you  here,  robber,  murderer  ?  "  he  de- 
manded. 

Cromillian  replied  coolly :  "  Well,  I  don't  mind  tell- 
ing you  I  have  come  on  a  tour  of  investigation.  You 
asked  me  a  question  and  I  have  answered  it.  Now  I  will 
match  yours  with  another.     Where  is  Vandemar  ?  " 

Pascal  dissembled :  "  I  cannot  be  expected  to  know 
the  whereabouts  of  all  those  who  have  been  my  guests." 

"  Your  guest !  "  said  Cromillian,  sneeringly.  "  I 
have  my  suspicions  that  he  has  been  foully  dealt  with. 
He  has  not  been  seen  since  you  and  your  host  of  ruffians 
that  are  called  Death  Brothers  attacked  him  here  in 
your  own  house.  The  world  has  been  able  to  give  us 
credit  but  for  one  thing — that  is,  the  virtue  of  hospi- 


A  DOUBLE  VENDETTA.  309 

tality ;  that  law  has  ever  been  held  sacred  by  Corsicans, 
as  you  well  know.  You  have  basely  violated  it,  and 
thereby  brought  dishonour  and  shame  upon  your 
countrymen.  By  all  that  is  holy,  when  Cromillian 
brutalises  his  manhood  to  that  extent,  may  the  very 
heavens  fall  and  crush  him !  " 

Pascal  drew  his  stiletto.  "  You  murdered  my 
brother,  villain,  and  you  dare  preach  to  me !  " 

"  You  lie !  I  but  defended  an  innocent  life.  Your 
brother  fell  by  his  own  rashness.  It  is  one  thing  to 
assassinate  your  enemy — ^that  requires  little  bravery; 
it  is  another  to  face  your  foe  like  a  man  and  give  him  a 
chance  for  his  life.  My  sword  is  longer  than  your 
stiletto,  and  I  could  murder  you  easily." 

He  unbuckled  his  sword  belt  and  threw  it  with  the 
sword  and  scabbard  upon  the  stone  floor.  Then  he  drew 
his  stiletto,  and  the  two  men  stood  facing  each  other, 
for  each  knew  that  but  one  of  them  could  leave  that 
room  alive. 

Cromillian  was  the  stronger  man,  but  much  heavier 
and  slower  in  his  movements  than  Pascal,  who  was  mus- 
cular and  agile.  For  a  time  it  was  a  drawn  battle.  Skill 
parried  strength,  and  strength  overcame  skill.  Then 
happened  that  which  has  happened  so  often  before — it 
was  a  question  of  endurance,  and  the  stronger  man  could 
endure  the  most.  Pascal  lost  his  head  and  struck 
wildly,  aimlessly. 

"  I  could  kill  you  now,"  said  Cromillian,  "  but  I  will 
spare  your  life  if  you  will  tell  me  where  I  can  find  Van- 
demar." 

Pascal  pointed  to  the  dungeon  door.  _  "  He  is  there 
with  my  sister  Vi\'ienne.  She  loves  him,  and  I  have 
given  her  to  hira." 

"  She  is  no  longer  a  Batistelli,"  croaked  Old  Ma- 
nassa ;  "  she  is  a  Delia  Coscia.     Let  them  die  together.' 

"  Open  that  door,"  said  Cromillian,  with  an  air  of 
command. 


310  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  You  forget,"  said  Pascal,  "  that  this  is  my  castle. 
I  am  master  here  and  take  orders  from  no  one." 

"  I  forget  nothing,"  replied  Cromillian.  "  I  know 
that  you  are  a  heartless,  inhuman  wretch,  and  the  would- 
be  murderer  of  two  innocent  hearts.  I  say  to  you 
again,  open  that  door." 

"  I  would  not  if  I  could,"  was  Pascal's  defiant  re- 
sponse ;  "  but  the  instructions  for  opening  the  dungeon 
door  have  been  lost — the  door  can  never  be  opened." 

To  Cromillian's  mighty  strength  was  now  added  the 
fury  of  despair.  "  I  do  not  believe  you !  "  he  cried. 
"  You  shall  die  with  that  lie  upon  your  lips." 

There  were  a  few  hurried  passes,  an  intertwining  and 
glistening  of  the  sharp  blades,  and  that  of  Cromillian 
pierced  Pascal's  heart.  As  Cromillian  started  to  leave 
the  room,  his  eyes  fell  upon  Manassa. 

"  I  ought  to  send  you  to  join  your  master,  for  I  be- 
lieve you  are  as  wicked  at  heart  as  he  was,  but  you  are 
an  old  man  and  powerless  to  defend  yourself.  It  would 
be  murder  to  kill  you.  But  they  shall  be  saved."  He 
pointed  to  the  dungeon  door.  "  I  shall  come  back  with 
my  men.  We  will  pull  this  castle  down;  I  will  not 
leave  one  stone  standing  upon  another." 

After  Cromillian  had  gone,  Manassa  picked  up  the 
sword  and  buckled  the  belt  about  his  waist.  What  he 
did  next  would  have  surprised  Cromillian  if  he  had 
seen  it.  The  old  man  took  up  the  dead  body  of  hia 
master,  clasped  it  firmly  in  his  arms,  and  carried  it 
slowly,  step  by  step,  down  the  long  stone  stairway,  then 
farther  down  until  he  reached  the  library.  Placing 
the  body  upon  a  low  couch,  he  fell  upon  his  knees  beside 
it.  Raising  his  right  hand,  he  cursed  the  Delia  Coscias, 
he  cursed  Cromillian,  and  swore  vengeance  against  him 
who  had  caused  his  master's  death. 

"  The  Delia  Coscias  are  dead — so  are  the  Batistellis. 
I  am  master  now  1 " 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  GABDEN  OF  EDEN. 

Thomas  Glynne  knew  that  Jack  De  Vinne  had  gone 
with  Cromillian  and  his  party,  though  he  did  not  know 
for  what  purpose.  Doubt  engenders  suspicion,  and  he 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  Cromillian  had  decided  to 
espouse  Jack's  cause,  and  had  taken  him  to  Ajaccio  so 
that  he  could  meet  with  Bertha. 

Gl\Tme  was  well  provided  with  money,  and  it  was  in 
that  shape  which  passes  current  in  all  lands — ^honest 
gold  coins ;  he  did  not  have  to  look  far  before  he  found 
one  of  the  bandits  who  was  willing  to  make  an  exchange, 
and  Glynne  soon  learned  what  he  most  wished  to  know 
— ^the  shortest  and  safest  road  to  Ajaccio. 

One  night,  Glynne,  at  his  purchased  friend's  su^es- 
tion,  was  put  on  guard.  While  his  companions  were 
sleeping  soundly,  in  supposed  safety,  Glynne  stole  away 
in  the  darkness. 

It  was  not  quite  daylight  when  he  came  suddenly 
upon  Cromillian's  party,  encamped  in  the  maquis.  A 
sleepy  guard  called  to  him,  but  receiving  no  reply,  and 
still  hearing  the  noise  of  his  approach,  fired  in  his  di- 
rection. There  was  the  sound  of  a  falling  body,  then 
all  was  still.  The  sentry  shortly  reconnoitred  and 
came  upon  the  body  of  Thomas  Glynne,  who  had  been 
shot  through  the  heart.  He  resumed  his  post,  and  it 
was  not  until  morning  that  he  informed  his  fellow 
bandits  that  he  had  called  to  the  person,  and,  receiving 
no  answer,  supposed  he  was  a  spy,  and  had  fixed  in  his 
direction,  as  it  proved,  with  imerring  aim. 

Among  those  to  whom  he  told  his  story  was  JacK 
811 


312  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

De  Vinne,  whose  curiosity  led  him  to  look  upon  the 
supposed  spy.  He  was  startled  beyond  measure  when 
he  found  that  it  was  Bertha's  guardian,  Thomas  Glynne. 

Jack  was  brave  and  resolute,  but  he  could  not  look 
npon  that  still  form  with  complacency.  Bertha  was 
deprived  of  her  appointed  protector.  What  would  she 
say  when  she  learned  the  truth  ?  Jack  thought  that  the 
least  he  could  do  was  to  give  the  body  a  decent  burial 
and,  v/ith  the  assistance  of  some  of  the  band,  Thomas 
Glynne  was  interred  near  where  he  had  been  shot.  Be- 
fore this  was  done  Jack  took  such  papers  as  Glynne  had 
upon  him,  thinking  possibly  there  might  be  something 
of  value  to  Bertha.  "Nor  was  he  mistaken.  To  his 
surprise,  he  found  the  last  will  and  testament  of  Oscar 
Renville  and  what  he  opined  were  other  valuable  papers 
in  reference  to  her  estates. 

He  went  at  once  to  the  leader  of  the  band,  one  Giu- 
seppe Pisano,  who  had  been  appointed  in  place  of  the 
recreant  Paoli,  and  explained  the  matter  to  him. 

"  I  must  go  to  Ajaccio,"  said  .Tack,  "  and  take  this 
document  to  the  dead  man's  ward.  It  is  of  great 
importance,  and  it  is  my  duty  to  take  it  at  once.  I 
know  our  good  Captain  would  agree  to  it  if  he  were 
here." 

Lieutenant  Pisano  gave  him  permission  to  go  to 
Ajaccio,  first  exacting  a  promise  that  after  having  per- 
formed his  mission,  he  would  report  to  Cromillian,  who 
was  encamped  in  the  maquis  near  Alfieri. 

It  would  be  hard  to  explain  Jack's  feelings.  They 
were  an  admixture  of  remorse,  fear,  hope,  and  love.  He 
was  sorry  that  Bertha's  guardian  had  been  killed,  even 
though  he  might  be  a  villain  and  false  to  the  trust  im- 
posed on  him  by  Bertha's  father,  and  he  was  sorry  for 
Clarence. 

As  a  lover,  his  heart  was  full  of  happiness,  for  was 
he  not  to  see  Bertha  after  a  separation  which  had  seemed 
almost  an  eternity  ?     He  concealed  the  papers  about  his 


THE  GARDEN  OF  EDEN.  313 

person,  and  set  out  with  a  light  heart  to  find  Bertha, 
vowing  that  they  never  should  be  parted  again. 

After  Cromillian  had  killed  Pascal,  he  declared  his 
intention  of  demolishing  the  Batistelli  castle  if  there 
were  no  other  means  of  rescuing  Vandemar  and  Vivi- 
enne.  To  do  this,  he  must  have  the  assistance  of  his 
followers,  who  were  encamped  in  the  maquis  about  a 
mile  from  the  village. 

Before  entering  the  castle,  he  had  hidden  his  rifle  in 
the  shrubbery,  for,  if  possible,  he  wished  to  make  hia 
visit  a  peaceful  one.  For  this  reason,  he  had  come 
alone  to  see  Pascal,  hoping  to  induce  him  to  release 
Vandemar  and,  perhaps,  bring  about  a  truce,  thus  pre- 
venting more  bloodshed.  In  this  he  had  failed.  Van- 
demar and  Vivienne  were  in  the  dungeon  chamber,  and 
the  demolition  of  the  castle  seemed  to  be  the  only  way 
in  which  their  lives  could  be  saved. 

Cromillian  walked  along,  his  rifle  over  his  shoulder, 
unconscious  of  imminent  danger.  He  was  thinking  of 
the  most  expeditious  manner  in  which  the  walls  of  the 
castle  could  be  so  breached  as  to  make  the  rescue  of  the 
lovers  possible,  when  he  felt  a  stinging,  smarting  sensa- 
tion between  his  shoulders.  Instantly  his  throat  filled 
with  blood,  he  choked,  a  momentary  weakness  overcame 
him,  and  he  fell  to  the  ground ;  but  he  was  a  man  of 
large  stature  and  great  muscular  strength.  With  the 
revulsion  that  followed  such  a  severe  physical  shock, 
came  the  desire  to  be  revenged  upon  his  assailant,  for  he 
knew  that  an  attempt  had  been  made  to  assassinate  him. 

Grasping  his  rifle,  which  had  fallen  from  his  hand, 
he  gave  a  quick,  energetic  lurch  to  his  body,  which  en- 
abled him  to  face  in  the  opposite  direction  to  that  in 
which  he  had  been  walking.  Not  twenty  feet  from  him, 
Cromillian  saw  an  old  man,  with  long  white  hair,  who 
was  brandishing  a  sword — his  own  sword,  for  there  was 
not  another  like  it  in  Corsica — it  was  old  Manassa! 


314  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  A  life  for  a  life ! ''  he  cried.  "  The  Batistellis  are 
avenged !  " 

The  old  man  turned  and,  with  surprising  agility,  ran 
in  the  direction  of  a  thick  grove  of  trees.  A  moment 
later  he  would  have  vanished  from  sight.  With  an 
almost  superhuman  effort,  Cromillian  raised  his  rifle 
and  fired.  A  yell  of  pain  was  proof  that  the  bullet  had 
struck,  but  the  wound  was  not  a  mortal  one.  Old 
Manassa  kept  on   and   disappeared   among  the   trees. 

The  exertion  was  too  much  for  Cromillian ;  his  throat 
again  filled  with  blood  and,  weakened  by  its  loss,  con- 
sciousness left  him. 

Shortly  after  the  meeting  between  Cromillian  and 
Pascal,  during  which  the  latter  was  killed,  the  Countess 
and  Bertha,  with  their  guests.  Admiral  Enright  and  his 
daughter  Helen,  were  seated  together  in  the  library  of 
the  Castle  Mont  d'Oro.  Suddenly,  the  conversation 
was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  servant,  who  said : 

"  Adolphe,  Monsieur  Pascal  Batistelli's  valet,  wishes 
to  speak  with  you,  madame." 

The  Countess  arose.  "  I  will  go  and  see  him.  l^o ; 
let  him  come  in.  We  are  all  friends,  and  equally  in- 
terested to  hear  what  he  may  have  to  say." 

Adolphe  entered  shortly  and  told  his  story,  somewhat 
disjointedly,  but  from  it  his  hearers  learned  that  a  fight 
had  taken  place  between  Cromillian  and  Pascal,  in 
whieli  the  latter  had  been  killed ;  that  Manassa  had  told 
him  that  Vandemar  and  Vivienne  were  in  the  dungeon 
chamber  and  that  there  they  must  die,  for  the  paper 
telling  how  to  open  the  door  had  been  lost ;  that  Man- 
assa had  gone,  no  one  knew  whither,  and  that  his 
master  lay  unburied.  "  There  is  no  head  to  the  house, 
and  I  know  not  what  to  do,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  have 
come  to  you,  Madame  la  Comtesse,  for  advice." 

The  Countess  turned  to  Bertha.  "  What  can  we 
say  ? "  she  asked,  her  voice  trembling  with  excitement 


THE  GARDEN  OF  EDEN.  815 

"  We  must  leave  it  all  to  the  Admiral,"  replied 
Bertha. 

Turning  to  the  Admiral,  the  Countess  said :  "I  am 
sorry,  my  dear  Admiral,  to  thus  burden  you,  but  there 
is  no  one  but  you  to  whom  we  may  turn  in  this  dreadful 
dilemma." 

Thus  summoned  to  take  the  leading  part  in  the  affair, 
the  Admiral  at  once  displayed  that  great  faculty  in 
grasping  details  and  organising  action,  which  had  made 
him  famous. 

"  Go  home,  young  man,"  he  said  to  Adolphe,  "  and 
tell  the  nurse,  Clarine  I  believe  you  called  her,  to  pre- 
pare your  master's  lx)dy  for  burial.  I  will  come  to  the 
castle  soon  and  tell  you  what  to  do  next." 

After  Adolphe  had  gone,  the  Admiral  turned  to  the 
Countess  and  said :  "  It  is  our  duty  to  go  at  once  to  the 
castle.  That  poor  girl  hasn't  a  relative  in  the  world. 
Nor  the  boy  either.  Not  a  soul  to  take  charge  of  an 
effort  for  their  liberation  but  ourselves.  It  is  hor- 
rible. They  shall  be  freed,  and  it  devolves  upon  us  to 
do  it." 

"  I  agree  with  you,  Admiral,"  said  the  Countess, 
"  but  I  do  not  think  it  safe  for  us  to  do  so  unless  we  are 
accompanied  by  a  proper  guard." 

"  Have  no  fear,"  said  the  Admiral ;  "  fortunately, 
that  is  provided  for.  I  am  momentarily  expecting  the 
arrival  of  a  detachment  of  sailors  and  marines  from  the 
ship,  for  whom  I  have  sent  to  protect  myself  and 
daughter  until  we  are  safe  again  on  board  our  vessel. 
When  they  arrive,  we  will  see  what  strong  hands  and 
willing  hearts  can  do  in  so  worthy  a  cause.  Let  us 
make  preparations  to  go  at  once*" 

The  Countess  left  the  room  to  give  an  order  to  her 
male  retainers  to  accompany  them. 

Both  the  Countess  and  Bertha  were  greatly  interested 
in  the  terrible  condition  and  probable  fate  of  Vandemar 
and  Vivienne.     The  Countess  had  known  Manuel  Delia 


316  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Coscia  and  remembered  the  pretty  little  boy  who  bad 
now  g^o^vn  to  man's  estate.  Then,  too,  she  had  thought 
a  great  deal  of  Vi^denne,  but  had  not  allowed  her  in- 
terest to  go  beyond  a  certain  point.  She  knew  that  the 
girl  was  lovable,  but  she  felt  that  if  she  betrayed  her 
own  affection,  it  might  lead  her  to  encourage  the  Count 
in  his  attentions  to  Mile.  Batistelli.  In  her  heart  she 
knew  that  her  son  would  never  make  Vivienne  a  good 
husband,  and  she  was  too  honest  and  sincere  a  woman  to 
wish  to  secure  her  own  happiness  by  making  another 
unhappy. 

Bertha's  feelings  were  prompted  by  the  natural  sym- 
pathy of  youth  for  youth.  This  sympathy  was  inten- 
sified by  the  fact  that  her  own  love  affair  was  in  a  sim- 
ilar condition.  To  be  sure,  she  did  not  feel  that  her 
life  was  in  danger,  but  she  did  not  know  but  that  Jack 
was  abeady  dead.  Were  not  Vandemar  and  Vivienne 
happier  than  she?  They  were  together  and,  if  they 
could  not  be  saved,  they  could  die  in  each  other's  arms. 
If  Jack  were  dead  and  she  thus  left  alone,  what  possible 
hope  of  future  happiness  could  there  be  for  her  ? 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  Countess,  as  she  re-entered  the 
room,  "  there  is  a  messenger  downstairs  who  wishes  to 
see  you  on  very  important  business." 

"  A  messenger  ?  "  exclaimed  Bertha,  and  her  cheek 
paled.  "  Why,  who  can  it  be  ?  I  know  no  one  in 
Corsica " 

"  He  would  tell  me  nothing  except  that  he  came  from 
your  guardian." 

"  My  guardian !  "  cried  Bertha,  and  her  pale  face 
grew  still  whiter.     "  I  will  not  see  him." 

"  I  think  it  best  that  you  should,"  said  the  Countess, 
decidedly. 

Bertha  thought  for  a  moment :  "  I  will  go  down,  if 
you  will  come  with  me." 

"  I  think  it  best  that  you  should  go  alone,"  the  Count- 
ess rejoined. 


THE  GARDEN  OP  EDEN.  317 

When  Bertha  reached  the  room,  a  man  who  had  been 
seated  at  the  farther  end  arose  and  came  towards  her. 
He  was  heavily  bearded  and  Bertha  considered  him  to 
be  a  stranger  to  her.     She  lowered  her  eyes. 

"  You  have  come  from  my  guardian  ?  "  she  asked,  in 
a  voice  hardly  audible. 

"  Yes — he  is  dead." 

"  Dead  ? "  cried  Bertha.  She  knew  her  thoughts 
were  wicked,  but  the  words  gave  her  a  sense  of  relief. 

"  How — "  she  had  wished  to  ask — "  How  did  it  hap- 
pen ?  "  but  she  could  utter  only  the  monosyllable. 

"  He  was  killed  by  one  of  Cromillian's  band,  who 
mistook  him  for  a  spy." 

Something  in  the  man's  voice  caused  her  to  gaze  at 
him  intently,  searchingly. 

"  Jack !  " — and  with  a  glad  cry  Bertha  sprang  for- 
ward and  threw  her  arms  about  the  young  man's  neck. 

"  Forgive  me — that  beard — I  did  not  know  you — and 
your  voice — I  am  so  glad  that  you  are  safe  " — and  she 
laid  her  head  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  him.  He  may  be  better  off,"  said 
Jack.  "  Here  are  some  valuable  papers  that  he  had  on 
him  wholly  relating  to  yourself,  and  which  you  should 
guard  carefully." 

"  I  hope  this  is  the  end,  Jack,"  she  breathed,  softly. 

"  I  hope  so — of  our  troubles,"  he  answered,  "  but 
others  are  in  trouble.  I  must  get  help  for  a  man  whom 
I  found  in  the  road,  shot  through  the  lungs.  I  was 
not  strong  enough  to  carry  him.  Where  is  Count  Mont 
d'Oro?" 

"  He,  too,  is  dead,"  said  Bertha.  "  Perhaps  Admi- 
ral Enright  can  help  you — ^but  what  is  that  ?  "  she  cried. 

They  listened. 

"  It  sounds  like  the  beating  of  a  drum,"  said  Jack, 
and  he  ran  to  the  window.  "  Come  here,  Bertha.  There 
is  a  body  of  sailors — English  sailors,  I  think — and  ma- 
rines in  front  of  the  house." 


318  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Bertha.  "  Admiral  Enright 
sent  to  his  ship  for  them,  and  now  let  us  seek  him  out 
and  also  the  Countess  Mont  d'Oro,  who  will  be  glad  you 
are  come,  for  everything  here  in  Corsica  seems  to  be  at 
sixes  and  sevens." 

The  Admiral  greeted  Jack  with  the  utmost  cordi- 
ality. "  I  knew  that  your  good  friend,  and  my  Lieu- 
tenant, Victor  Duquesne,  was  very  much  worried  be- 
cause of  your  absence,  and  I  am  glad  you  have  returned 
to  give  a  good  account  of  yourself." 

Jack  gave  a  brief  recital  of  his  wanderings  since  he 
left  the  hotel  at  Ajaccio,  and  also  explained  the  con- 
dition of  the  wounded  man,  upon  hearing  which  the  Ad- 
miral immediately  detailed  four  sailors  to  accompany 
Jack  on  his  humane  errand. 

"  My  dear  Coimtess,"  said  the  Admiral,  "  our  young 
friend  has  gone  to  save  one  life;  it  is  now  our  duty  to 
see  if  we  can  save  two." 

It  was  a  strange  procession  that  left  the  house  of  the 
Countess  Mont  d'Oro  and,  escorted  by  the  sailors  and 
marines,  soon  reached  the  Batistelli  castle.  The  Adr 
miral  and  his  daughter  were  in  advance,  while  close 
behind  them  were  the  Countess  Mont  d'Oro,  and  Bertha 
who  insisted  upon  accompanying  them,  declaring 
that  nothing  would  induce  her  to  remain  at  home 
alone. 

Adolphe  and  Clarine  stood  in  the  open  doorway  wait- 
ing to  receive  them,  and  led  the  party  through  rooms 
ami  corridors,  and  up  the  steep  stone  stairway  to  the 
Hall  of  Mirrors.  The  picture  they  formed,  trans- 
ferred to  canvas,  would  have  won  fame  and  fortune  for 
the  artist.  There  was  the  Admiral  in  the  handsome 
uniform  of  his  rank ;  the  Countess  dressed  in  the  latest 
Parisian  style,  and  Helen  and  Bertha  in  plain  and 
simple  attire,  forming  a  marked  contrast  with  the 
uniforms  of  the  jack-tars  and  marines.  The  company 
was  not  very  large,  but  its  numbers  were,  apparently, 


THE  GARDEN  OF  EDEN.  319 

multiplied  by  the  mirrors  on  the  walls,  and  it  seemed 
as  though  a  vast  concourse  was  present. 

The  Admiral  studied  carefully  the  picture  disclosed 
by  the  parting  of  the  hinged  mirrors.  All  could  see 
that  the  artist  had  depicted  a  well-known  incident  in 
the  garden  of  Eden. 

"  Does  any  one  here  know  aught  about  the  dun- 
geon ?  "  inquired  the  Admiral. 

Adolphe  led  the  old  nurse,  Clarine,  forward.  "  I 
am  the  only  one  who  knows,"  she  said.  Clarine  then 
told  what  she  knew  of  the  history  of  the  dungeon  cham- 
ber, the  paper  left  by  Vivienne's  father,  how  she 
had  given  it  to  the  young  girl  on  her  birthday,  and  how 
it  had  disappeared,  no  one  knew  how  or  where. 

"  I  understand,"  said  Admiral  Enright.  "  There  is 
no  key  to  the  door,  nor  handle,  so  it  must  be  opened 
from  the  outside,  by  some  ingenious  concealed  mech- 
anism. To  state  the  problem  is  easy,  but  I  fear  it  will 
be  hard  to  solve  it  My  dear,"  turning  to  his  daughter 
Helen,  "  you  are  well  versed  in  regard  to  the  castles  of 
olden  times  and  their  dungeons.  Have  you  learned, 
in  all  your  studies  of  them,  anything  which  may  aid 
us  in  the  present  case  ?  " 

Helen  had  been  standing  apart  from  the  rest,  eagerly 
scanning  the  picture  before  her.  At  her  father^s  words 
she  came  forward  and  lightly  touched  the  picture  at 
different  points  with  her  finger. 

"  May  one  of  your  men  assist  me  ?  "  she  asked,  turn- 
ing to  the  Admiral. 

The  Admiral  motioned  for  one  of  the  sailors  to  come 
forward. 

"  There  must  be  some  connection,  father,"  she  said, 
"  between  the  picture  and  what  we  may  call  the  lock, 
which,  in  cases  I  have  read  of,  is  formed  of  bolts  held 
in  place  by  certain  springs  acted  upon  in  a  way  which 
we  must  ascertain.  You  see,  here  are  Adam  and  Eve 
in  the  garden  of  Eden,  standing  beneath  a  tree,  and 


320  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

above  them  the  wicked  serpent  with  glistening  eyes. 
There  is  the  apple  in  Eve's  hand.  Now,  if  we  follow 
the  story  as  it  is  written,  the  serpent  tempted  Eve  and 
Eve  tempted  Adam,  who  ate  the  apple.  Now,  supposing 
your  man  will  place  the  forefinger  of  his  right  hand  on 
the  eye  of  the  serpent  and  keep  it  there.  Now,  place 
the  forefinger  of  your  left  hand  on  the  stem  of  the 
apple.  Now,  press  hard."  Suddenly  there  was  a 
sound — a  grating  sound — like  the  moving  of  one  metal- 
lic surface  upon  another;  yet  there  was  no  movement 
of  the  door. 

"  Not  quite,"  exclaimed  Helen,  excitedly,  "  but  thank 
God  we  must  be  nearing  the  solution.  Now  place  a 
finger  upon  Eve's  mouth;  now  on  Adam's  ear.  Now, 
press  hard." 

Again  the  grating  sound,  but  still  the  doors  did  not 
open. 

Helen  now  gazed  long  at  the  picture,  while  all  present 
watched  her  in  tense  silence. 

"  Two  of  the  bolts  have  been  shot,  father,"  she  said 
at  last,  "  but  there  must  be  a  third,  and  possibly  more. 
Ah !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  a  sudden  thought  seemed  to 
strike  her,  no  doubt  impelled  by  the  idea  of  pushing 
Adam  out  of  the  garden  of  Eden,  "  press  with  all  your 
might  upon  Adam's  chest !  " 

The  sailor  sprang  forward  to  obey  her  command. 
Again  the  grating  sound;  this  time  much  louder. 
There  was  a  creaking  noise,  and  the  door  opened  slowly, 
as  though  pushed  from  within  by  invisible  hands. 

A  wild  shout  of  delight  arose  from  the  company,  for 
there,  standing  side  by  side,  were  Vandemar  and  Vivi- 
enne.  They  had  heard  the  grating  and  creaking  and 
knew  that  the  hour  of  their  deliverance  had  come.  All 
stood  awe-hushed  as  Vandemar,  seemingly  the  shadow 
of  his  former  self,  and  Vivienne,  with  tear-stained  face 
and  pallid  cheek,  came  forth. 

"  Bless — ^my — soul !    Re-m^rk-a-ble !  "  exclaimed  the 


THE  GARDEN  OF  EDEN.  321 

Admiral,  and  he  ran  forward  and  grasped  the  young 
man's  hand. 

The  strong-armed  sailor  started  to  lend  his  support 
to  Victor,  but  he  was  abruptly  put  aside  by  a  young 
man,  who  now  rushed  through  the  crowd  and  helped 
lead  Victor  forward.  It  was  Jack,  who  had  performed 
his  errand  of  humanity,  and  had  arrived  just  in  time  to 
witness  the  release  of  his  friend. 

Pylades  and  Orestes  were  again  reunited. 

Simultaneously  Vivienne  was  clasped  in  the  arms  of 
Clarine,  who  had  been  as  a  mother  to  her  and  had  loved 
her  all  her  life.  A\^ith  the  assistance  of  the  Countess 
and  Bertha,  Vixienne  was  led  to  a  chair.  Her  first 
words  were : 

"  Where  is  my  brother  Pascal  ?  " 

"  He  is  dead,"'  cried  Clarine.  "  Cromillian  killed 
him.     You  are  the  last  of  the  Batistellis." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

FATHER  AND   SON. 

While  the  company  had  been  at  the  Batistelli  castle, 
Jack  had  performed  the  task  intrusted  to  him.  Cro- 
millian  had  been  brought  in,  a  doctor  called,  and  the 
flow  of  blood  stanched.  He  was  in  a  high  state  of  fever 
and  was  delirious.  He  kept  calling  for  his  men  to 
follow  him  and  save  Vandemar  and  Vivienne  by  tearing 
down  the  castle  walls.  "  It  is  the  only  way,"  he  cried 
time  after  time,  and  after  each  exertion  would  fall  into 
a  stupor. 

The  next  morning,  when  the  doctor  came,  he  was 
rational.  He  had  been  told  that  Vandemar  and  Vivi- 
enne had  been  liberated,  and  the  intelligence  had  pro- 
duced a  most  quieting  effect, 

"  What  is  my  real  condition,  Doctor  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  Tell  me  the  truth.  I  can  bear  it.  I  have  a  duty  to 
perform  and  wish  to  know  whether  there  is  time." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  t})e  doctor,  "  your  wound  is  a  mortal 
one.  You  are  a  very  strong  man  and  have  great 
vitality.  You  will  live  another  day,  perhaps  two,  but 
I  can  offer  you  no  hope  beyond  that." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Cromillian.  "  I  knew  as  much. 
I  wish  to  see  Vandemar.  Let  him  come  to  me  at  once 
and  have  him  bring  two  witnesses.  I  have  something 
to  tell  him  about  his  father." 

It  was  not  long  before  Vandemar  appeared,  accom- 
panied by  the  Admiral  and  Countess  Mont  d'Oro. 
Vandemar's  first  words  were : 

"  They  said  you  could  tell  me  something  of  my  father. 
Where  can  I  find  him  ?  " 

822 


FATHER  AND  SON.  323 

"  You  will  not  have  to  go  far.  I  am  he — I  am  called 
Cromillian,  but  my  right  name  is  Manuel  Delia  Cos- 
eia." 

His  hearers  were  astonished,  Vandemar  most  of  all. 
Could  this  bandit  be  the  father  whom  he  had  so  longed 
to  see  ? 

"  I  do  not  expect  you  to  love  me,  my  son.  It  is  un- 
natural that  you  should,  for  we  have  never  been  close 
to  each  other.  But,  before  I  die,  I  must  remove  a  stigma 
from  our  family  name.  You  are  the  last  of  the  line, 
Vandemar,  and  should  know  the  truth.  Let  your 
friends  draw  near,  for  my  story  is  a  long  one  and  I  am 
weaker  than  I  thought. 

"  Vandemar  and  friends,  as  sure  as  there  is  a  God  in 
Heaven,  I  did  not  kill  Conrad  Batistelli.  The  old 
Count  Mont  d'Oro  and  Conrad  Batistelli  had  a  dispute 
about  some  land,  for  you  know  their  estates  adjoin. 
Pardon  me,  lady,  for  what  I  am  forced  to  say,  but  it  is 
the  truth. 

"  One  day,  T  met  the  old  Count,  who  asked  me  if  I 
had  my  stiletto  with  me.  He  had  left  home  without 
his,  and  as  he  was  going  to  examine  his  estate  and  might 
meet  Batistelli,  he  was  afraid  that  an  altercation  might 
ensue,  when  he,  being  unarmed,  would  be  at  a  disad- 
vantage. That  evening  I  went  to  the  Count's  house  to 
get  back  my  stiletto,  for  it  was  a  valuable  one  and  bore 
my  initials.  To  my  horror,  I  learned  that  he  had 
killed  Conrad  Batistelli  with  it  and,  unthinkingly,  had 
left  the  weapon  beside  the  dead  body  of  his  victim. 

"  I  was  a  widower ;  you  were  a  little  boy  of  six.  The 
Batistellis  were  powerful,  and  I  knew  that  our  lives 
would  be  forfeited  if  we  remained  in  Corsica.  The 
Count  gave  me  all  the  money  he  had  in  his  possession, 
and  a  letter  of  credit  for  a  large  sum.  I  took  you, 
mounted  a  fleet  horse  supplied  by  the  Count,  and  made 
my  way  to  Ajaccio.  I  obtained  a  disguise  and,  a  few 
days  later,  secured  a  passage  to  France.     I  made  my 


324  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

way  at  once  to  England,  where  I  placed  you  at  school. 
The  Count  sent  me  more  money,  from  time  to  time, 
and  I  lived  the  life  of  a  man  of  leisure ;  but  when  you 
were  old  enough  to  enter  the  Navy,  my  occupation  was 
gone.  I  had  taken  the  name  of  Hector  Duquesne,  and 
had  given  you  that  of  Victor. 

"  I  wearied  of  my  quiet,  do-nothing  life,  and  decided 
to  come  back  to  Corsica.  But  what  could  I  do  here? 
If  I  returned  under  my  own  name,  although  I  was  an 
innocent  man,  the  vendetta  would  claim  me  as  a  victim. 
I  assumed  the  name  of  Cromillian  and  organised  my 
company  of  moral  bandits,  pledged  to  do  all  they  could 
to  discountenance  the  practice  of  the  vendetta. 

"  But  I  yearned  to  see  you,  and  wrote  to  you,  telling 
you  who  you  were  and  why  you  had  been  banished  from 
your  native  land,  though  I  did  not  tell  you  when  and 
where  you  could  see  me.  I  had  hoped  to  meet  you  in 
some  way,  look  upon  your  face  for  the  last  time,  and 
then  warn  you  to  leave  Corsica  forever.  You  must 
do  it  now.  My  life  will  soon  pay  the  forfeit,  and  yours 
will  if  you  remain  here.  The  vendetta  never  dies  while 
food  for  the  stiletto  or  the  rifle  remains  alive." 

The  Countess  was  deeply  affected  by  Cromillian's 
story.  She  had  never  dreamed  that  her  husband  was 
connected  in  any  way  with  such  a  tragedy.  What  a 
whirligig  of  fate  it  was  which  had  brought  the  father 
and  son  together  under  her  roof.  Cromillian  must  have 
divined  what  was  passing  in  the  Countess's  mind. 

"  My  dear  lady,"  he  said,  "  do  not  worry  about  what 
I  have  told  you.  The  Corsicans  are  born  murderers. 
If  your  husband  had  not  killed  Conrad  Batistelli,  he 
would  have  lost  his  own  life.     Is  Pascal  dead  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Vandemar,  "  he  is  to  be  buried  to-mor- 
row." 

"  I  shall  soon  follow  hdm.  Have  they  found  old 
Manassa  ?  I  fired  at  him  after  he  shot  me,  and  then  he 
ran  for  the  woods." 


FATHER  AND  SON.  326 

"  We  shall  have  a  search  made  for  him,"  said  Van- 
demar. 

Father  and  son  were  left  together.  Each  was  at  the 
portal  of  a  new  life.  One  was  to  go — he  knew  not 
where ;  the  other  looked  forward  to  a  life  of  happiness 
with  the  woman  he  loved. 

As  the  Admiral  and  the  Countess  left  the  room,  the 
former  asked : 

"  Have  you  ever  found  anything  among  your  hus- 
band's papers  bearing  on  this  affair  of  the  vendetta  ?  I 
believe  this  man's  story,  but  even  the  truth  should  be 
verified." 

"  No,"  the  Countess  replied ;  "  since  my  husband 
died  in  Paris,  I  have  visited  Corsica  only  when  it  was 
absolutely  necessary  to  learn  from  my  steward  the  con- 
dition of  my  affairs.  The  Count's  private  papers  are 
here,  but  they  have  never  been  disturbed  since  his 
death." 

''  Suppose  we  look  at  them  now,"  su^ested  the  Ad- 
miral. 

A  careful  search  disclosed  a  sealed  packet,  endorsed 
"  Manuel  Delia  Coscia.  Statement  of  Account."  Be- 
low was  written  in  a  trembling  hand,  "  Closed."  It  was 
opened  by  the  Admiral,  and  found  to  contain,  among 
other  papers,  a  signed  statement  corroborating  in  every 
particular  the  story  told  by  Cromillian.  The  writer 
expressed  his  regret  that  he  could  not  make  a  more  ade- 
quate return  for  the  great  service  rendered  him  by 
Manuel  Delia  Coscia. 

Vandemar's  father  was  sinking  rapidly.  The  Count- 
ess and  her  guests  were  gathered  at  his  bedside,  and 
she  had  informed  him  of  the  finding  of  the  paper,  among 
her  late  husband's  effects,  which  entirely  exonerated  the 
Delia  Coscias  from  all  complicity  in  the  murder.  A 
look  of  pleasure  overspread  the  face  of  the  wounded 
man  as  he  motioned  for  Vandemar  and  Vivienne  to  ap 
proach.     He  joined  their  hands. 


826  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  Thus  ends  a  Corsican  vendetta,"  he  said,  solemnly ; 
then,  seeing  Jack  and  Bertha,  he  smiled  faintly  and 
added :  "  And  an  English  family  feud." 

His  passing  was  painless  and  peaceful.  At  his  re- 
quest, his  gravestone  bore  but  one  word — Ceomillian. 

The  searching  party  that  had  been  sent  out  to  look 
for  Old  Manassa  returned  and  reported  that  they  had 
scoured  the  maquis,  but  could  see  no  trace  of  him. 
His  body  was  never  found. 

Admiral  Enright  at  last  received  the  orders  from 
London  for  which  he  had  been  waiting  so  long.  He 
told  his  hostess  that  he  must  join  his  ship  and  proceed 
at  once  to  Portsmouth. 

"  Young  man,"  he  said,  turning  to  Yandemar,  "  you 
ought  to  go  with  me.  On  Mademoiselle  Batistelli's  ac- 
count, however,  I  will  allow  you  to  reach  Portsmouth 
by  way  of  Paris." 

"  You  will  find  me  there  waiting  for  you,"  said  Yan- 
demar Delia  Coscia. 

"  And  what  am  I  to  do  ? "  asked  Jack,  turning  to 
Bertha. 

"  You  have  neglected  your  duties  as  heir  of  the 
Earl  of  Noxton,"  broke  in  the  Admiral,  with  mock 
severity,  "  and  you  have  added  to  your  responsibilities 
by  that  neglect." 

Jack  looked  disturbed. 

"  I  know,  my  dear  Admiral,  I  have  been  very  remiss, 
but  you  must  own  there  have  been  extenuating  circum- 
stances." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Admiral  Enright,  "  I  see  her," — and 
he  looked  at  Bertha,  who  blushed  prettily. 

"  1^0  doubt  we  all  wish  to  leave  these  scenes,"  said 
the  Countess.  "  I  shall  return  eventually,  but  for  the 
present  I  shall  open  my  Paris  residence,  where,  with 
Bertha,  we  shall  be  pleased  to  welcome  you  as  our  guests 
so  long  as  you  can  find  it  convenient  to  stay." 

On  the  afternoon  preceding  the  day  of  departure, 


FATHER  AND  SON.  827 

a  solemn  conclave  was  held  in  the  library  of  the  Mont 
d'Oro  castle. 

"  Mademoiselle  Batistelli,"  said  the  Admiral,  turn- 
ing to  Vivienne,  "  is  it  jour  intention  to  return  to  the 
Batistelli  castle  eventually,  or " 

"  Never!  "  broke  in  Vivienne.  "  I  shall  never  step 
within  its  doors  again.  I  couldn't  Nothing  but  dis- 
tressing memories  are  connected  with  its  walls,  and  I 
never  wish  to  set  foot  in  Corsica  again." 

"  I  had  thought  as  much,"  remarked  the  Countess, 
"  and  had  so  expressed  myself  to  Admiral  Enright.  As 
it  adjoins  my  estate,  I  will  make  you  a  proposition. 
With  your  consent — and  also  that  of  your  future  hus- 
band — I  will  purchase  the  Batistelli  castle  and  grounds 
at  their  proper  valuation.  Should  this  offer  prove  ac- 
ceptable, it  is  my  intention  to  raze  the  castle  to  the 
ground,  and  remove  the  hedge  which  has  divided  the 
estates  for  so  many  years.  Thus  all  unpleasant  mem- 
ories will  be  banished.  I  shall  be  glad,  for  Paris  is  too 
noisy,  and  I  shall  have  this  castle  to  be  the  shelter  of  my 
declining  years." 

This  plan  proved  agreeable,  and  it  was  arranged  that 
some  of  the  Batistelli  servants,  including  Clarine,  should 
be  added  to  the  Mont  d'Oro  household ;  the  others  were 
dismissed  with  gratuities. 

The  next  day  the  Osprey  set  sail  from  Ajaccio,  bear- 
ing the  Admiral  and  his  daughter.  It  was  arranged 
that  Vandemar  and  Vivienne,  and  Jack  and  Bertha,  ac- 
companied by  the  Countess  Mont  d'Oro,  should  go  at 
once  to  Paris. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

"  MEREIE  ENGLAND." 

ViviENNE  had  wished  Clarine  to  accompany  her  to 
England,  for  Vandemar  had  expressed  his  intention 
of  making  that  country  his  future  home. 

"  No,  my  darling,"  said  the  old  nurse,  "  I  would  like 
to  go  with  you,  but  those  whom  I  have  served,  and  all, 
whom  I  have  loved,  excepting  yourself,  are  dead  and 
buried  here  in  Corsica.  Until  within  a  short  time, 
you  have  loved  me  better  than  any  one  else  in  the  world, 
but  now  your  love — all  your  love — belongs  to  another, 
and  old  Clarine  will  not  ask  you  to  divide  it  I  have  not 
long  to  stay — ^you  will  not  blame  me,  I  know — ^but 
when  I  die,  I  wish  to  be  buried  in  my  native  land.  I 
could  not  die  happy  if  I  were  to  be  laid  away  in  that 

far  off  country,  so  far  from  those  I "     Here  the 

old  nurse's  feelings  overcame  her,  and  her  voice  was  so 
choked  with  sobs  that  she  could  not  speak.  Vivienne 
comforted  her  as  best  she  could,  and  told  her  that  she 
would  write  to  her  regularly,  and  that  some  day  she 
might  come  with  her  husband  to  pay  her  a  visit. 

"  Countess  Mont  d'Oro  has  agreed  to  take  you  into 
her  household,  Clarine.  If  she  had  not  done  so,  I  should 
have  insisted  upon  your  going  with  me,  but  with  her  I 
know  that  you  will  be  well  treated,  and  if  you  are  sick 
you  will  have  the  best  of  care.  She  has  promised  me  as 
much." 

Vandemar  had  a  conversation  with  Admiral  Enright 
before  the  sailing  of  the  Osprey. 

"  My  duty  is  to  join  my  ship  at  onoe,"  the  young 
man  had  said. 


"  MERRIE  ENGLAND."  829 

"  Young  people  do  not  see  their  duty  sometimes  as 
clearly  as  do  their  elders,"  the  Admiral  had  replied. 
"  The  time  you  spent  in  that  dungeon  has  broken  you 
down  physically — I  will  not  say  mentally— as  much  as  a 
three  years'  cruise  would  have  done.  I  am  commander 
of  the  ship  and  I  know  that  my  action  will  be  sus- 
tained by  the  Admiralty.  I  grant  you  a  furlough  of 
(thirty  days.  If  you  cannot  make  Mademoiselle  Batis- 
'telli  your  wife  and  join  me  at  Portsmouth  by  the  end  of 
that  time,  you  deserve  to  be  court-martialled,  and  I  will 
see  that  you  are." 

IsTever  had  the  mansion  of  the  Countess  Mont  d'Oro 
been  so  ablaze  with  light  as  on  the  evening  when  she, 
accompanied  by  her  guests,  arrived  in  Paris.  She  had 
previously  sent  word  as  to  what  preparations  she  wished 
made  for  their  coming.  She  had  no  sooner  stepped 
over  the  threshold  than  she  turned,  and,  with  a  blending 
of  French  fervour  and  Italian  grace,  with  both  hands 
extended,  welcomed  her  guests. 

"  This  is  my  city  home,"  she  cried.  "  It  shall  be 
yours  as  long  as  you  wish  to  stay.  I  have  been  mis- 
tress here  for  so  long  that  it  will  be  a  pleasure  for  me 
to  take  orders  from  others.  Command  me,  and  I  will 
obey." 

Vivienne  had  never  been  outside  of  Corsica  and  she 
viewed  with  wonder  the  beauties  of  the  great  city.  It 
was  the  time  of  the  Second  Empire,  and  the  Prince- 
President,  on  assuming  the  crown,  had  determined  to 
make  the  people  of  Paris  happy.  He  knew  that  Paris 
was  France,  and  that  if  Parisians  were  happy  the  rest 
of  the  country  would  be  tranquil. 

During  Bertha's  previous  stay  in  the  city,  she  had 
seen  but  few  of  its  attractions,  for  she  had  declined  to 
accompany  Count  Mont  d'Oro,  and  had  gone  out  very 
seldom  with  the  Countess. 

Yandemar  and  Vivienne,  and  Jack  and  Bertha,  made 


330  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

a  happy  party  and  there  were  no  restrictions  upon  their 
enjoyment.  When  asked  to  accompany  them  the 
Countess  had  replied: 

"  I  have  had  my  day  as  an  active  participant ;  I  take 
the  most  pleasure  now  in  seeing  others  enjoy  them- 
selves." 

Twenty  days  of  Lieutenant  Victor  Duquesne's  fur- 
lough had  expired.  In  his  intercourse  with  the  out- 
side world,  he  still  retained  the  name  by  which  he  was 
known  in  the  Navy. 

"  When  my  name  is  changed  upon  the  'Na.vj  roster," 
he  told  the  Countess,  "  I  shall  feel  as  though  I  had  some 
legal  right  to  it." 

"  You  will  have  to  claim  a  legal  right  to  it  before 
then,"  said  the  Countess.  ''  You  have  no  father  nor 
mother,  and  I  feel  it  is  my  duty  to  act  towards  you  in 
place  of  both.  Your  friend,  Mr.  De  Vinne,  has  a  father 
and  a  mother  living,  and  can  take  Miss  Renville  to  his 
own  home.  You,  at  present,  have  no  home,  and  as  your 
combined  father  and  mother,  and  as  the  combined 
father  and  mother  of  Mademoiselle  Batistelli,  you  must 
take  your  choice  between  becoming  the  husband  of  Vivi- 
enne  within  the  next  ten  days,  or  you  will  be  obliged  to 
leave  her  here  in  Paris.  You  careless,  thoughtless, 
headstrong  young  men  are  very  apt  to  forget  the  pro- 
prieties. You  think  that  Vivienne  belongs  to  you,  and 
that  nobody  else  has  any  interest  in  her,  but,  young 
man,  bear  in  mind  that  until  you  legally  and  lawfully 
make  her  your  wife,  she  is  mine.  You  remember  I 
lived  next  door  to  her  in  Corsica." 

Vandemar  took  Jack  into  his  confidence. 

"  What  am  I  to  do,  old  man  ?  Here's  the  Countess 
says  that  I  must  marry  Vivienne  or  she  can't  let  her  go 
to  England  with  me.  She  says  you  have  a  home  to  take 
your  lady-love  to,  while  I  have  none.  I  intend  to  make 
one,  though." 

"  The  Countess  is  right,"  said  Jack,  "  and  do  you 


«  MERRIE  ENGLAND."  331 

know  I  have  been  thinking  that  the  hest  way  to  over- 
come possible  objection  is  to  render  it  futile." 

"  Well,  I  can't  say  that  I  follow  you,"  remarked  Van- 
demar. 

"  Well,  you  will  understand  me,"  said  Jack,  "  when 
I  express  my  determination  of  following  you." 

Still  Vandemar  did  not  understand.  "  Wliy,  of 
course,"  said  he,  "  we  always  intended  to  go  to  England 
together." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jack.  "  Our  original  intention  was  to 
go  as  four  separate  individuals,  but  as  the  Fates  seem 
to  have  decided  that  you  and  Vi\'ienne  must  go  as  a 
couple,  I  am  more  than  willing  to  take  time  by  the  fore- 
lock and,  with  Bertha's  kind  co-operation,  make  another 
couple." 

Vandemar  grasped  Jack's  hand.  "  From  the  time 
we  first  met  until  to-day,  Jack,  I've  never  got  into  any 
kind  of  trouble,  any  sort  of  a  dilemma,  that  you  did  not 
contrive  some  way  of  getting  me  out  of  it" 

"  Well,  you  know,"  said  Jack,  "  that  somehow  or 
other  we  neither  of  us  have  forgotten  the  old  story  of 
Pylades  and  Orestes." 

"  And  I  hope  we  never  shall,"  said  Vandemar,  fer- 
vently. 

A  sudden  thought  came  to  Jack.  "  Well,  I  may  have 
kept  faith  with  you  and  done  part,  if  not  all  that  I 
should  have  done  in  your  behalf,  but  there  is  one  poor 
fellow  whom  I  have  entirely  forgotten,  so  fully  have  I 
been  carried  away  by  my  own  happiness." 

"  Clarence  ?  "  queried  Vandemar. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jack.  "  IsTo  news  comes  from  that  out- 
of-the-way  place  from  which  we  have  providentially 
escaped  with  our  lives,  and  what  is  worth  more,  our 
wives  tchbe.  Poor  Clarence  does  not  yet  know  of  the 
death  of  his  father.  I  will  go  and  talk  the  whole  matter 
over  with  Bertha,  and  we  will  decide  what  is  best  to 
write  him." 


332  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Clarenee  Glynne's  recovery  had  been  rapid  after  the 
arrival  of  his  wife.  He  had  not  been  affected  so  much 
by  the  exhibit  of  his  father's  enmity  towards  him  as  he 
was  by  the  supposed  loss  of  his  wife,  whom  he  dearly 
loved.  The  departure  of  his  father  in  quest  of  Bertha 
made  him  virtual  master  of  Buckholme,  and  he  lost  no 
time  in  installing  his  wife  as  its  mistress.  He  had  ex- 
plained matters  to  Mr.  Lake,  giving  him  a  most  liberal 
douceur,  and  had  received  the  detective's  promise  that 
no  publicity  would  be  given  to  the  affair  of  Glynne  vs. 
Glynne. 

Clarence  resumed  his  position  as  head  of  the  mer- 
cantile house  of  Walmonth  &  Company,  and  everything 
moved  along  much  more  smoothly  and  happily  than  it 
had  before. 

"  The  day  of  reckoning  will  come  some  time,"  he  said 
to  his  wife,  one  morning  at  breakfast. 

"  Well,  Clarence,"  she  replied,  "  there  is  an  old  adage 
about  not  borrowing  trouble.  When  the  day  of  reckon- 
ing comes,  we  will  figure  up  both  sides  of  the  account 
and  see  to  whom  the  balance  is  due.  I  know  you 
will  pardon  me  when  I  say  that  I  think  your  father  has 
been  playing  a  deep  game.  So  far  as  you  are  con- 
cerned, there  is  no  reason  why  the  truth  should  not  be 
known,  but  I  don't  think  he  will  be  willing  to  have  it 
divulged.  In  such  a  case  the  balance  will  be  on  your 
side.  You  suspect  what  the  truth  is,  and  if  you  should 
mention  your  suspicions  to  the  authorities,  the  truth 
would  have  to  come  out." 

"  That  may  be  so,"  said  Clarence,  "  but  a  man  doesn't 
like  to  get  his  father  in  a  hole,  and  then  shake  a  stick 
at  him  and  tell  him  he  can't  come  out  unless  he  pays 
up." 

"  I  don't  say,  Clarence,  but  that  you  are  indebted  to 
your  father  for  your  existence,  but  I  really  think  you 
owe  him  very  little  love,  and  I  am  sure  I  have  never 
had  any  for  him,  nor  he  for  me." 


"  MERRIE  ENGLAND."  333 

Jennie  might  have  said  more,  but  conversation  was 
cut  short  by  the  entrance  of  Brinkley  with  the  morning 
mail. 

Clarence  was  so  busily  engaged  with  his  breakfast 
that  Jennie  took  the  letters.  She  glanced  over  them 
quickly,  throwing  them,  one  by  one,  upon  the  table. 
The  postmark  of  the  last  one  she  regarded  attentively. 

"  Why,  here's  one  from  Paris,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  From  father  ?  "  asked  her  husband,  still  intent  upon 
his  bacon  and  eggs. 

"  No,"  said  she.  "  I  will  open  it  and  read  it  to 
you." 

Womanlike  she  looked  at  the  end  of  the  letter  first. 

"  Why,  Clarence,"  she  exclaimed,  "  it's  from  Jack 
De  Vinne." 

"  Go  on,"  said  her  husband,  as  he  buttered  a  muffin, 
"  let's  hear  what  he  says,"  and  Jennie  read : 

"  My  Deae  Claeenoe  : 

"  I  have  been  very  remiss  in  my  duty  to  you.  I 
should  have  written  to  you  long  before  this  and  con- 
veyed to  you  some  intelligence  which  you  will  find  of 
the  greatest  importance.  Let  me  give  you  my  excuse 
first  I  cannot  tell  you  the  whole  story  now,  for  I  am 
not  an  adept  at  letter-writing,  and  usually  confine  my 
communications  to  a  statement  of  bald  facts.  Well, 
the  facts  are  these.  By  a  curious  coincidence  I  met  my 
dear  friend  Victor  Duquesne  in  Corsica.  Bertha  had 
gone  there  with  the  Countess  Mont  d'Oro,  and  I,  as  you 
know,  followed  her.  Admiral  Enright's  ship,  upon 
which  Victor  was  a  lieutenant,  came  to  Ajaccio  shortly 
after  I  arrived,  so  we  met.  Your  father  followed 
Bertha  to  Corsica,  intending  to  prevent  my  meeting 
with  her.  She  was  not  poor,  as  your  father  had  told 
me,  but  possesses  a  fortune  in  her  own  right.  Your 
father  was  to  be  her  guardian  until  the  day  of  her 
marriage,  when,  by  her  father's  will,  she  was  to  be  put 


534  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

in  possession  of  her  fortune.  You  see  now  why  your 
father  wished  you  to  marry  her  and  why  he  did  not 
want  her  to  marry  anybody  else." 

"  We  knew  all  that  before,  didn't  we,  Clarence  ? " 
exclaimed  Jennie. 

"  Yes,"  said  her  husband,  as  he  buttered  a  third  muf- 
fin. "  Go  on,  he's  got  something  more  to  tell.  I  know 
Jack;  he  writes  just  as  he  talks." 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  all  now,  Clarence,  all  the  terrible 
things  that  occurred  in  Corsica  while  we  were  there. 
The  vendetta  is  the  national  pastime.  We  all  got 
mixed  up  in  it,  and  fortunate  are  we  that  we  escaped 
with  our  lives ;  many  did  not  But  Bertha  and  I,  and 
Victor  and  his  lady-love,  a  beautiful  young  Corsican 
girl  named  Vivienne  Batistelli,  and  our  mutual  friend, 
Countess  Mont  d'Oro,  are  all  safe  now  in  Paris.  I  have 
written  all  this,  Clarence,  in  the  vain  hope  that  I  should 
find  some  way  of  breaking  sad  news  to  you  in  such  a 
manner  as  not  to  give  you  too  sudden  a  shock." 

Clarence  dropped  his  knife  and  fork  and  looked  in- 
tently at  his  wife.  "  I  told  you  so,  Jennie.  I  knew  he 
was  holding  something  back.  But  read  on;  it  cannot 
be  any  worse  than  I  think  it  is.  I  imagined  while  you 
were  reading  that  something  had  happened,  for  how 
could  Jack  know  about  Bertha's  fortime  ?  " 

"  You  are  right,"  said  his  wife,  who  had  been  reading 
ahead  while  he  had  been  talking ;  "  you  are  right,  Clar- 
ence, your  father  is  gone.  Jack  says  he  was  made  cap- 
tive by  one  party  of  bandits  while  your  father  was  a 
captive  with  another  band.  Your  father  escaped  with 
the  evident  intention  of  following  Jack,  but  when  chal- 
lenged by  the  guard  he  did  not  answer  quickly  enough 
and  was  shot  down.  Jack  saw  that  he  was  buried,  and 
took  possession  of  the  papers  upon  him.     He  says  that 


"MERRIE  ENGLAND."  836 

one  of  those  papers  was  the  will  of  Oscar  Renville,  and 
he  took  the  liberty  of  giving  it  to  Bertha,  who  read  it 
Those  are  not  his  own  words,"  said  Jennie.  "  I  will 
read  it  just  as  it  is  here,  if  you  wish,  Clarence." 

"  Is  there  any  more  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,  another  page." 

"  Bertha  wishes  me  to  say  to  you  that  if  your  father, 
in  the  performance  of  his  duty  as  guardian,  has 
invested  a  part  of  her  fortune  in  the  business  of 
Walmonth  &  Company,  she  has  no  desire  to  with- 
draw it  at  present.  She  is  willing  to  make  an  arrange- 
ment by  which  a  suitable  interest  may  be  paid  her  upon 
the  amount.  If  it  has  all  been  invested  in  the  business, 
a  share  in  the  profits,  she  thinks,  would  be  more  equi- 
table. But  all  can  be  arranged  when  we  arrive  in  Eng- 
land. Trusting  that  you  and  your  wife  are  enjoying 
good  health,  and  with  kind  regards  from  Bertha  and 
myself,  I  am, 

"  Sincerely  yours, 

"  John  De  Vinne." 

"  I  cannot  give  you  a  royal  wedding,"  said  the  Count- 
ess Mont  d'Oro,  "  but  I  am  willing  and  able  to  make  it 
a  princely  one." 

Both  the  young  ladies  protested  against  such  extrava- 
gance. 

"  I  have  no  one  else  to  squander  my  money  upon," 
eaid  .the  Countess.  "  Just  think  of  it,  you.  Bertha,  are 
going  to  be  a  countess,  and  probably  Vivienne  will  one 
day  hear  her  future  husband  addressed  as  Admiral." 

"  Yes,"  cried  Bertha,  "  but  both  of  those  events  are 
likely  to  be  far  in  the  future.  I  do  not  wish  my  pre- 
sumptive father-in-law  to  die,  and  I  know  that  it  is 
long,  in  times  of  peace,  before  a  lieutenant  becomes  an 
Admiral." 

"  But  these  are  not  times  of  peace,"  cried  the  Count- 


33d  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

ess.  "  There  is  going  to  be  a  war.  A  friend  of  mine 
who  is  intimate  at  Court  says  that  it  will  not  be  many 
months  before  France  will  declare  war  against  Russia. 
It  is  something  about  the  Crimea,  but  what  that  is  I 
really  do  not  know." 

"  Why,  that's  part  of  Russia,"  cried  Bertha.  "  Or 
perhaps  the  Russians  wish  to  add  it  to  their  Empire. 
I  remember  reading  about  Peter  the  Great  and  how  he 
founded  the  city  of  St.  Petersburg.  The  book  said 
that  one  hundred  thousand  men  lost  their  lives  from 
fever  and  other  forms  of  disease  while  the  city  was  be- 
ing built" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Countess,  sharply,  "  these  rulers  are 
always  willing  to  sacrifice  the  lives  of  their  subjects  if 
they  can  add  thereby  to  their  own  power.  I  am  a  lover 
of  peace." 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Vivienne,  "  but  are  there  not  times 
when  an  honourable  war  is  better  than  a  dishonourable 
peace  ? " 

The  Countess  did  not  answer  the  question,  but  said, 
gaily :  "  We  are  not  here  to  discuss  war,  but  an  honour- 
able peace.  You  two  young  ladies  have  capitulated, 
and  the  victors  demand  their  booty — I  should  have  said 
beauty." 

"  Let  it  be  a  quiet  wedding,"  said  Bertha,  "  with  as 
few  people  present  as  possible." 

"  That's  my  idea,  exactly,"  said  Vivienne. 

"  Well,  you  may  have  your  own  way  so  far  as  the 
marriage  itself  is  concerned,"  said  the  Countese. 
"  About  one  part  of  the  festivities  though,  I  shall  insist 
upon  having  my  own  way.  After  the  marriage  we  will 
have  a  reception,  and  I  shall  claim  the  right  to  invite 
to  that  whom  I  please,  and  as  many  as  I  please." 

The  wedding  reception  was  over  and  the  last  guest 
had  departed. 

"  TMs  is  the  happiest  day  I  have  ever  passed  in  this 


"MERRIE  ENGLAND."  8»7 

house,"  said  the  Countess.  "  I  am  glad  that  my  last 
days  in  it  have  been  connected  with  such  a  series  of 
happy  events." 

"  Why,"  cried  Vivienne,  "  are  you  not  going  to  live 
in  Paris  ?  " 

"  K^o,"  said  the  Countess,  "  I  have  already  made  ar- 
rangements to  sell  the  house.  I  am  going  back  to  Cor- 
sica to  live.  I  may  never  see  you  again,  but  you  must 
write  and  tell  me  how  happy  you  are,  and  your  letters 
will  be  a  great  solace  to  me." 

"  But  you  must  come  and  see  us,"  said  Bertha,  "  after 
We  settle  down  in  England." 

"  No,"  said  the  Countess,  decidedly,  "  after  I  go 
back  to  Corsica  I  shall  never  leave  it  again.  But  we 
must  not  talk  any  more  about  my  travels,  which  are  of 
little  consequence.  The  carriage  will  be  here  in  half 
an  hour  to  take  you  to  the  station.  Lieutenant  Delia 
Coscia's  furlough  expires  day  after  to-morrow,  and  he 
must  be  in  Portsmouth  to  meet  the  Admiral.  Is  it  not 
so,  Monsieur  Lieutenant  ?  " 

''  You  have  spoken  the  truth.  Countess,"  said  Van- 
demar.  "  We  have  had  our  days  of  pleasure,  and  now 
for  me  come  days  of  duty." 

The  Countess  did  not  break  down  when  the  moment 
for  parting  came.  "  You  have  my  blessing,"  she  said, 
almost  gaily ;  "  life  is  bright  for  you,  and  I  feel  glad 
that  I  have  in  some  small  degree  contributed  to  your 
happiness.  Don't  forget  to  write  to  me,"  were  her 
last  words  as  they  descended  the  steps  to  enter  the  wait-  j 
ing  carriage. 

When  Lieutenant  and  Madame  Delia  Coscia  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  John  De  Vinne — or  as  we  should  have  said 
Lord  and  Lady  De  Vinne — arrived  at  Portsmouth  they 
learned  that  Admiral  Enright  was  away  on  leave. 
About  a  fortnight  previous  to  their  arrival,  the  Adriiiral, 
accompanied  by  his  daughter,  had  gone  to  his  estate  m 
Devonshire. 


338  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

An  officer  of  the  Osprey,  who  was  staying  at  the  same 
hotel  with  the  married  couples,  informed  Vandemar  and 
Jack  that  the  Admiral's  leave  would  expire  in  three 
days,  and  that  he  would  surely  return  by  that  time. 

The  young  gentlemen  and  their  wives  were  on  their 
honeymoons,  and  the  delay  made  little  difference  to 
them. 

A  week  elapsed  before  Vandemar,  who  was  in  the 
smoking  room,  espied  the  Admiral's  genial  face  as  he 
alighted  from  a  carriage.  In  a  moment  Vandemar  was 
with  him  and,  arm  in  arm,  they  went  back  to  the  smok- 
ing room,  where  cigars  were  lighted. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Vandemar.  "  I  hope 
your  daughter  is  not  sick.  She  is  not  with  you.  What 
caused  your  delay  ?  " 

The  Admiral  laughed  immoderately ;  finally  he  ejacu- 
lated :  "  Bless  my  soul !     A  most  re-mark-a-ble  affair." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,"  cried  Vandemar.  "  Madame 
Delia  Coscia  is  out  driving  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  De 
Vinne  and  I  am  lonesome." 

"  I  hardly  know  where  to  begin,"  said  the  Admiral, 
and  again  he  laughed  heartily. 

"  Why  not  at  the  beginning  ?  "  queried  Vandemar. 

"  That's  not  a  bad  idea,"  said  the  Admiral.  "  Well, 
you  know  Doctor  John  Frobisher,  who  was  surgeon  on 
the  Osprey  ?  " 

"  Eemember  Jack  Frobisher  ?  "  broke  in  Vandemar. 
"  Of  course  I  do !  A  mighty  good  fellow.  Hard  to 
get  acquainted  with,  though.  Bashful  or  diffident,  I 
don't  know  which." 

"  You  haven't  got  the  right  word,"  said  the  Admiral. 
"  He  was  jealous." 

"  Jealous !  "  cried  Vandemar.     "  Of  whom  ?  " 

"I  think,"  said  the  Admiral,  "that  it  must  have 
been  a  certain  lieutenant  attached  to  the  Osprey,  who 
was,  I  judge  from  what  you  have  told  me,  lately  mar- 
ried in  Paris  to  a  beautiful  young  Corsican  lady." 


"MERRIE  ENGLAND."  339 

"  Whew !  "  exclaimed  Vandemar.  "  What  possible 
proof  can  you  have  for  such  a  ridiculous  state- 
ment ?  " 

"  Well,"  remarked  the  Admiral,  "  if  you  will  let  me 
go  on  with  my  story,  I  think  I  can  make  it  as  plain  to 
you  as  it  is  to  me." 

"  Proceed,  my  dear  Admiral,"  said  Vandemar,  "  but 
when  you  are  through  you  will  have  to  undergo  a  cross- 
examination." 

"My  estate,"  the  Admiral  began,  "is  a  good  five 
miles  from  the  nearest  village.  When  we  left  the  mail- 
coach  my  ovm  carriage  was  waiting  for  us — I  ordered  it 
ahead — but  it  was  nine  o'clock  at  night,  and  dark  at 
that  I  was  for  staying  over  night,  but  as  we  had  a 
guest  with  us,  Helen  was  for  pushing  on — and  on  we 
pushed." 

Vandemar  forgot  himself :  "  A  guest  ? — ^Excuse  me, 
Admiral." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right.  I  ought  to  have  told  you  that 
Doctor  Frobisher  was  Avith  us.  He's  an  orphan  or 
something  of  that  sort  and  had  no  place  to  go.  Well, 
we  had  covered  about  two  miles  when  we  heard  a  pistol- 
shot  close  behind  us,  and  Chudleigh,  our  driver,  pulled 
up  the  horses  with  a  jerk.  Jack  jumped  out  to  see 
what  the  matter  was.  His  feet  had  no  sooner  touched 
the  ground  than  he  saw  a  pistol  pointed  at  him.  Bless 
my  soul !  We  were  at  the  mercy  of  a  highwayman,  the 
worst  of  all  land  sharks.  The  fellow  made  me  get  out 
next,  but  Helen  refused  to  move.  She  argued  with  the 
highwayman,  telling  him  that  his  calling  was  nefarious 
and  that  he  would  surely  end  his  days  on  the  scaffold. 
The  fellow  reached  in,  caught  hold  of  Helen,  and  tried 
to  pull  her  out  of  the  ^rriage.  That  was  more  than 
Jack  could  stand.  He  jumped  upon  the  rascal  and 
down  they  went.  That  fencing  of  yours  was  fine — ^the 
best  I  ever  saw — but  in  a  rough-and-tumble  fight  T  think 
Jack  can  hold  his  own  with  the  best  of  them.     When 


340  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

Jack  got  through  with  the  highwayman,  we  left  him  to 
sleep  off  his  troubles." 

"  Good  for  Jack !  "  Vandemar  exclaimed,  involun- 
tarily. 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  Admiral.  "  You  know 
how  fond  Helen  is  of  personal  bravery  ?  Well,  she  was 
delighted,  and  she  told  John  so.  Either  the  scuffle  or 
her  praise  unlimbered  his  tongue,  and  while  I  was  asleep 
in  a  comer  of  the  carriage,  he  had  the  audacity  to  pro- 
pose and  was  accepted.  A  most  re-mark-a-ble  affair. 
They  were  married  a  week  ago.  I  couldn't  get  away 
any  sooner." 

At  that  moment  the  driving  party  returned,  and  all 
joined  in  congratulating  the  Admiral  in  saving  his 
money  from  the  highwayman  and  eecuriug  so  desirable 
a  son-in-law. 

"  Now,  Admiral,"  said  Vandemar,  "  you  can  help  us. 
The  two  husbands  and  wives  now  before  you  have  no 
place  to  call  their  own  in  which  they  can  lay  their 
heads.     We  are  willing  to  buy  or  lease.     Where  can  we 

*'  I  know  just  the  place,"  cried  the  Admiral.  "  It 
was  made  for  you.  It  is  called  Crow  Lodge,  and  is 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  my  own  place." 

"  I  should  change  the  name  at  once,"  said  Vivienne. 

"  And  what  would  you  call  it  ?  "  asked  Vandemar. 

"  I  should  name  it  after  our  best  friend,"  she  re- 
plied, "  Countess  Mont  d'Oro — Marie  Lodge.  Would 
not  that  be  a  pretty  name  ?  It  is  to  her  more  than  to  any 
one  else  that  we  owe  our  present  happiness,  and  I  am 
going  to  name  everything  I  can  after  her." 

The  Admiral  looked  up,  and  with  a  roguish  twinkle 
in  his  eye,  asked :   "  Even " 

Vivienne  blushed  rosy  red;  the  others  laughed,  but 
she  answered  stoutly :   "  Yes,  even !  " 

Jack  and  Bertha  had  been  guests  at  Marie  Lodge  but 


"MERRIE  ENGLAND."  341 

a  few  days  when  an  urgent  summons  came  from  his 
mother,  the  Countess.  Before  leaving  Portsmouth 
Jack  had  wired  his  father  of  his  intended  visit  to  Devon- 
shire, and  had  given  his  address.  The  summons  was  in 
the  form  of  a  telegram.  It  read :  "  Come  home  at 
once.     Your  father  is  at  the  point  of  death." 

"You  must  come  with  me,  Bertha,"  said  Jack. 
"  Your  place  is  by  my  side.  I  know  my  mother  will 
receive  you  as  a  daughter.  If  my  father  has  any  ob- 
jections to  our  marriage,  it  is  too  late  to  prevent  it,  but 
I  wish  his  forgiveness,  if  he  thinks  such  an  act  neces- 
sary, beforft  he  dies." 

The  Earl  of  l^oxton's  illness  had  not  been  of  long 
duration,  but  he  had  suffered  intense  pain.  Nature, 
at  last,  had  succumbed  in  so  far  as  to  offer  no  further 
resistance  to  the  inroads  of  disease ;  instead,  there  had 
come  that  physical  peace  and  that  lucid  interval  which 
so  often  precede  dissolution. 

As  Jack  had  presaged,  the  Countess  welcomed  Bertha 
warmly. 

"  She  is  beautiful,  is  she  not,  mother  ? "  asked  Jack 
when  they  were  alone. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Countess,  "  and  she  is  poor.  When 
I  was  married  to  yoiir  father  he  said  I  was  beautiful, 
and  I  was  poor." 

"  You  are  beautiful  now,  mother,"  said  Jack,  as  he 
embraced  her.  "  But  Bertha  is  not  poor.  I  thought 
she  was,  for  her  guardian  told  me  so,  but  it  turns  out 
that  she  is  rich." 

The  three  sat  by  the  bedside  of  the  dying  man.  The 
Earl  of  Noxton  fixed  his  eyes  intently  upon  Bertha. 

"  Who  is  she,  John  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  faint  voice. 

"  She  is  my  wife,  father." 

"  Ah,  I  remember,  you  told  me  about  her.  You  said 
she  was  beautiful.  I  can  see  that  for  myself,  but  you 
also  told  me  that  she  was  poor.  Well,  your  mother  was 
both  beautiful  and  poor  when  I  married  her,  and  I  have 


342  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

never  regretted  that  I  made  her  a  Countess.  I  hope 
you  \dll  not." 

Jack's  mother  led  Bertha  away.  "  You  must  not 
mind  his  last  words,"  she  said.  "  We  knew  that  John 
had  gone  in  search  of  you  and  we  imagined  what  the 
end  would  be.  The  Earl's  father  was  opposed  to  our 
marriage,  but  Carolus  was  determined  that  I  should  be 
his  wife,  and  I  knew  that  John  was  like  his  father.  My 
only  wish  is  that  the  Earl  could  have  lived  to  have  seen 
you  both  happy." 

Jack  stood  by  the  bedside  and  took  his  father's  wasted 
hand  in  his.     "  Have  I  your  forgiveness,  father  ?  " 

The  thin  fingers  closed  upon  his  own ;  then  he  heard 
the  words :  "  It  runs  in  the  blood ;  like  father,  like  son." 

Both  Vandemar  and  Clarence  were  soon  in  receipt  of 
letters  informing  them  of  the  death  and  burial  of  the 
Earl  of  Noxton,  They  read,  too,  in  the  papers,  of  the 
demise  of  Lord  Carolus  De  Vinne,  Earl  of  iN'oxton,  and 
the  announcement  of  the  accession  of  his  son  John  De 
Vinne  to  the  title.  The  item  contained  the  informa- 
tion that  the  young  Earl  had  been  married  while  in 
Paris  to  Miss  Bertha  Renville,  daughter  of  the  late 
Oscar  Renville,  who  had  left  her  a  large  fortune  which 
would  go  to  swell  the  revenues  of  the  young  Earl.  The 
item  further  stated  that  the  young  Countess  of  Noxton 
was  a  beautiful  English  girl,  and  when  the  period  of 
retirement  was  over  she  would,  no  doubt,  prove  a  great 
acquisition  to  London  society. 

As  Countess  Mont  d'Oro  foretold,  the  war  cloud  grew 
black,  and  England,  France,  and  Sardinia  made  a  triple 
alliance  against  the  aggressions  of  Russia  in  the  Crimea. 

"  Admiral,"  said  Vandemar,  "  I  am  going  to  London 
to  ask  the  Admiralty  for  active  service." 

"  Nonsense,"  cried  the  Admiral.  "  You  stay  at  home 
and  look  after  your  wife.  This  is  not  to  be  a  naval 
war ;  this  affair  is  to  be  fought  out  on  land,  and  a  sailor 
on  land  is  of  no  more  use  than  a  turtle  on  its  back.  Be- 


"MERRIE  ENGLAND."  843 

Bides,"  the  Admiral  added,  "  I  have  arranged  matters 
with  the  Admiralty.  I  am  ordered  to  duty  at  Ports- 
mouth, and  I  have  requested  that  you  should  be  with 
me." 

Vandemar  saw  that  it  was  in  vain  to  protest 
"  We  shall  be  very  comfortably  situated,"  said  the 
Admiral.  "  My  son-in-law  has  resigned  his  position  in 
the  Navy  and  mil  at  once  take  up  general  practice. 
Our  doctor  here  is  too  old  to  go  out  nights,  and  John  is 
to  step  into  his  shoes.  Of  course,  after  getting  the 
best  of  the  highwayman,  John  will  not  be  afraid  to  go 
out  late  at  night,  and  then,  you  see,  Vandemar,  we  can 
run  back  and  forth,  and  if  we  have  to  remain  away 
from  home  any  length  of  time,  Vivienne  can  stay  with 
Helen,  If  you  are  not  satisfied  with  that  arrangement, 
I  must  say  I  am." 

As  the  Admiral  had  said,  the  issues  of  the  Crimean 
war  were  settled  by  the  Army  and  not  by  the  Navy. 
The  battle  of  the  Alma;  the  famous  charge  of  Lord 
Eaglan  at  Balaklava;  the  battle  of  Inkermann,  on  the 
night  before  which  ten  thousand  British  soldiers  joined 
in  singing  "  Annie  Laurie,"  and  the  siege  and  fall  of 
Sebastopol  followed  each  other,  but  not  in  as  quick  suc- 
cession as  have  the  battles  in  more  modem  warfare. 

"Queen  Victoria's  very  sick  ; 
Napoleon's  got  the  measles  ; 
Sebastopol's  not  taken  yet, 
Pop  go  the  weasels." 

The  words  were  those  of  a  popular  song;  they  were 
sung  in  a  childish  treble  by  a  young  blue-eyed  and  fair- 
haired  boy  who  was  playing  on  the  terrace  of  Noxton 
Hall.  The  singer  was*^  Victor,  the  son  and  heir  of 
John,  Earl  of  Noxton. 

"  Why  don't  you  sing,  Marie  ? "  asked  the  boy,  ad- 
dressing a  little  girl  with  dark  hair  and  dark  eyes,  who 
sat  beside  him. 


344  THE  CORSICAN  LOVERS. 

"  I  don't  like  to,"  said  little  Miss  Delia  Coscia.  "  I 
don't  thjnk  the  words  are  pretty." 

"  WeH,  I  do,"  rejoined  Victor.  "  Papa  says  the 
English  fought  the  Roosians  and  he  says  they  beat 
them,  too.  Come,  let's  fight.  You  be  Roosian  and 
I'll  be  English."  He  started  towards  the  little  girl, 
who  turned  and  fled,  screaming  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  children?  " 

The  speaker  was  Countess  Mont  d'Oro,  who  had 
been  prevailed  upon  to  visit  England.  She  had  resisted 
all  entreaties  until  a  picture  had  been  sent  her  of  her 
namesake,  the  little  Marie.  Then  there  had  come  to 
her  heart  a  desire  to  see  Vivienne's  child,  which  she 
could  not  repress.  The  Earl  had  heard  of  her  visit  to 
Marie  Lodge,  and  had  insisted  that  Vandemar  and  his 
family,  and  the  Countess,  should  pay  them  a  visit  at 
IN'oxton  Hall. 

Before  the  Countess  could  ascertain  the  reason  for 
Marie's  alarm,  her  loud  cries  had  summoned  Jack  and 
Bertha,  and  Vandemar  and  Vivienne,  to  the  terrace. 

"  What's  the  trouble,  Victor  ?  "  asked  his  father. 

"  Nothing,  only  I  wanted  to  play  war,  and  Marie  was 
Roosian  and  I  was  English,  but  when  I  showed  fight 
she  ran  away  and  made  lots  of  noise." 

That  evening  after  dinner  Jack  and  Vandemar  sat  in 
the  smoking  room.  As  is  often  the  custom  with  fond 
parents,  who  are  good  friends,  they  praised  each  other's 
children. 

"  I  am  proud  of  my  namesake,"  said  Vandemar ; 
"  he  is  a  handsome,  manly  little  fellow." 

"  And  I  think,"  said  Jack,  "  that  Marie,  when  she 
grows  up,  will  be  as  beautiful  as  her  mother.  W^ho 
knows  but  that  if  my  boy  and  your  girl  grow  up  to- 
gether, she  may,  one  day,  be  the  Countess  of  [N'oxton  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Vandemar,  with  feeling,  "  if  their  hearts 
so  decide,  and  not  our  wills.  Neither  you  nor  I,  Jack, 
will  ever  interfere  with  the  love-making  of  our  children. 


«  MERRIE  ENGLAND."  345 

Surely  we   have  had  enough  of  plots   and  counter- 
plots." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jack,  "  if  an  obdurate  guardian  had  pre- 
vailed, Bertha  would  not  now  be  Countess  of  Noxton." 

"  Yes,"  spoke  up  Vandemar,  "  and  if  the  Corsican 
vendetta  had  claimed  its  last  victim,  Vivienne  would 
not  now  be  the  wife  of  Vandemar  Delia  Coscia.  By  the 
way.  Jack,  what  do  you  suppose  the  Countess  told  Vivi- 
enne to-day  ? " 

"  That  she  is  going  to  sell  her  estates  in  Corsica  and 
take  up  her  residence  in  Paris  once  more." 

"  The  first  part  of  your  guess  is  correct,"  said  Van- 
demar, "  but  she  is  not  going  to  live  in  Paris.  She 
told  Vivienne — I  think  I  can  repeat  her  very  words, 
*  My  past  troubles  are  buried  in  Corsica,  and  my  joys 
are  yet  to  come  with  you  and  Merrie  England.'  " 


ffHE  ENIX 


POPULAR  TUNE'S 
COMPOSER  DIES 

I    t  ■ 

Theodore  Tohani  W  on  Fame 
\   W  ith  'Hearts  and  Flowers' 


NEW  YORK.  Dec.  13.  (JP\— The 
song  has  ended  fw  Theodore  Moses 
.Tobani,  who  composed  'Hearts  and, 
Tlowers"  In  thirty  minutes  anr^ 
jUved  to  hear  it  played  around  f 
.world, 

I    Tobani    died    yesterday     at      h 
Queens  home.    He  wa»  78  years  - 

f  It  took  him  half  an  hour  to  wr 
^Hearts  and  Flowers"  in  1893.  'Ih 
melody  came  to  him  one  day  while 
he  was  on  vacation.  More  than 
23.000,000  copies  had  been  sold  at 
the  beginning  of  this  year  and  the 
song  still  sells  at  the  rate  of  200, 
000  copies  a  year. 
r    He  composed  5480  other  works. 


A     000  128  407 


LOFLAND&  RUSSELL 

Books  and  Stationery 

732  W.  6th  ST. 
.  LOS  ANGELES 


